


You Just Wanted To Be Missed

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, gabe saporta is the best and most adorable person in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9165721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ryan/brendon college au





	

**Author's Note:**

> **edit as of 8/15/17: i'm leaving it as is and the ending is open to interpretation**
> 
> i also fucking hate that i used 1st person in this so fuck me

The first week of my junior year of college had been about as unpleasant as an atheist being forced to attend Sunday service.

First, I forgot when his classes were scheduled, so I arrived to his History of Literature class in the middle of the syllabus speech. That was on the first day of school, a Monday.

On Wednesday, I’d been heading to that class, coffee in hand when I ran into his ex – literally - some stupid senior soccer player named Matt, and he had knocked my shoulder hard enough to spill the coffee all over my clothes and writing journal for class. I had to explain to my professor that, no I hadn’t decided that coffee was more important than his short story, but an ‘ex-friend’ of mine simply saw me and became filled with spite.

Friday night I had gone to Matt’s dorm to give him a piece of mind for the coffee incident. Really I had. But when Matt had opened the door, shirtless and fresh out of the shower, well I’d forgotten why I had even gone there in the first place.

So that’s where I’m at now. Currently lying in Matt’s bed, naked. Alone because Matt was about to leave for a date. Much to my surprise, Matt was about to pick up a girl. Apparently his soccer friends had grown suspicious of Matt never bringing a girl to any of his games, or hanging out with anyone of the opposite sex, so now he was using Jessica, a cheerleader, for cover.

After about five minutes, Matt explains has to leave and shows me to the door. He grabs my face and pulls him in for a dirty kiss and suddenly I remember why I’d kept Matt around for so long in the first place. He was very good at everything. Everything. My hand slides down his chest, making its way further down when Matt lets out a low groan, and suddenly I need to get him back in bed. Fuck the date. I break the kiss and begins to push the other boy back into the room when I hear loud whistles and shouts from the end of the dorm hall.

My head turns sharply to see where the noises came from, and the door slams shut in my face. I’m left standing in front of my ex’s door with a few football players making their way towards me. I mouth a silent ‘fuck’ and my hands come up to cover my face. Dreading the oncoming insults and comments of bigotry.   _Of course. This is the athletes’ dorms. Fucking fantastic._

“Ryan Ross, is that you? About to make the walk of shame huh? And from the guys dorms. Interesting,” one of the idiot meat bags grunts.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I try my best at a mocking tone, but it lacks the bark behind the bite. They know that. There’s three football players, two of them are basically walking giants and the third is about my height, but lean and well-muscled. I recognize him before the other two. He’s Brendon Urie, the star quarterback. Apparently he was a prodigy from the beginning. A star child so they say. He’s a genius with a 4.0 GPA, and has managed to maintain it throughout his entire life, as well as the whole football deal. Brendon hasn’t been in any clubs, or done much else, but apparently he’s a nice guy who just happens to have the brains and the brawn.

So it’s pretty hard for me to see him here with the two giants in question. They make him seem like a small spoiled child hiding behind his two goonies.

“Actually I wouldn’t really like to know anything about how you sleep with other guys Ryan. Seeing as how that’s pretty nasty”. The other football player is covered in tattoos and his name might be Zack. He’s the one to voice his apparent disgust at my sex life. Crazy how everyone seems to be interested in anyone else’s but their own.

The only one who hasn’t spoken is Urie. He’s hardly looked at me, except a glance when he and his bodyguards first made their way over.

“You did ask me, you know, if I was about to do a ‘walk of shame’, so it would seem that in fact, yes, you like to know”.  I cross my arms and lean on the door frame knowing neither of them could come up with a comeback for that. Brendon on the other hand might. I’m not too sure if he’s really as smart as he seems to be, so I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he’ll look up and dare to cross the skinny ass stick that is me. Unfortunately for me –fortunately for Brendon- he doesn’t look up or answer.

“Oh fuck you Ross,” Zack replies. The comeback fell short of any of the lowest expectations Ryan had.

“Right now? I’m kind of occupied. And I would say maybe later, but, Zack, you aren’t my type”. Before anything else can be said I push off of the door frame to stand about an inch away from Zack’s face. Zack tries to step back, but seems as if he’s too shocked to even do that. I shoot him a wink and a smirk before turning on my heel and walking away from the trio.

When I reach the stairwell I need to pause for a moment realizing what in the hell I just did. Slept with my ex and hadn’t even thought about the consequences. The boy who broke my heart, yet I fall back into his waiting arms the moment he pretended he was actually sorry. Then I get caught walking out of said ex-boyfriend’s room looking thoroughly fucked. Anger bubbles out of nowhere and my fist slams into the wall, resounding in a loud crack. It didn’t hurt, but the echo of the impact noise makes me involuntarily cringe. I whisper a silent ‘fuck’ before clutching my hand to my chest and slowly making my way down the stairs.

By the looks of it, this year was just going to spiral downwards.

***

My only classes were on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. So all the days I have off were spent working to pay for the college my scholarship didn’t cover. Freshman year I worked a lot of odd jobs for anyone who was willing to pay, but near the end of the year I found the town’s public library and I’ve been working there ever since. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s enough to keep me just barely above what I owe the school.

At the end of every month I’ve got about $20 to spend on myself, so it’s safe to say I also don’t get out much. With that being said, I’ve only got two friends from school, Gabe and Jon.

Gabe is on the soccer team, the school’s senior star goalie, go figure I can’t stay away from the goddam soccer team, and Jon is one step away from being a college dropout had he not already completed enough credits to earn his masters. Both of them were friends before they met me - so they were already close, but I easily fit into their duo, making it a trio.  

Jon, for some reason, is majoring in Musical Studies, and Gabe the same. Though you wouldn’t think it if you saw them, they’re both in a band that could pass off as semi-successful. There’s three members including Jon and Gabe, though I’m not sure who the third man is. I could know, if I ever went to any of their gigs I’d been invited to thousands of times. But I’d always had class, work, either of the two clubs I’m in, or other things.

This year Gabe threatened that if I didn’t come to one of their shows, he would embarrass me somehow – he wouldn’t share the details, just said it would be a surprise - in front of the entire school at a soccer game. I said I would find time for Gabe in my schedule, then headed off to my Composition class.

So now I sit, thirty minutes of class spent staring out of a window, waiting for the professor to end the discussion of his life. I’d picked this class because I knew the professor never actually taught, just went on and on, mindlessly about his personal problems and stories. Almost everyone passes, unless they didn’t actually know anything about English Composition, then they usually ended up wasting their money of this class.

What I wasn’t expecting was for that other idiot bodyguard of Urie’s to be in this class with him. Turns out his name is Shane Morris, and I hate him immediately.

Shane is one of those kids who got into college on an athletic scholarship and needs tutoring because their grades are such shit. He’s also one of those kids who apparently doesn’t take into account that most other kids are here to learn. That’s why they pay almost twenty thousand a year. All he does is sit in the back of the class and occasionally throw in some smart-ass remark at the end of professor Stump’s life story.

Today Shane decides that rather than being a smart-ass, he’s just going to be an ass. Professor Stump is explaining how he met his wife Eliza, when Shane shouts from the back, “You’re married to a woman? That’s surprising”.

I turn around to see Shane sitting in the farthest back row of the class laughing to himself. The students surrounding him shoot angry looks his way and some tell him to shut up.

“Yes Shane, as a matter of fact I am. I have been happily married to Eliza for about seven years now. She’s an amazing woman, and I’m very glad to have my other half, though you wouldn’t know much about happiness, since you derive in taking pleasure from insulting others who have a far greater intellect than you. Then when they answer you in a way you can’t comprehend, you get defensive and angry, and say things that further prove your incompetence in actual intelligence,” and I can’t believe that Shane was actually just insulted by the professor who un-ironically wears a fedora.

The idiot himself just sits back in his chair and keeps his mouth closed for the rest of the lecture. One where professor Stump talks about how to get though life if you have an IQ below one hundred, ‘not from personal experience though’.

When everyone is dismissed I wait after the last of the students file through the door and walk up to Mr. Stump’s desk. The blonde man looks up from his graded papers and smiles at warmly. “What can I do for you Mr. Ross?”

“I was wondering if you could review this story for my writing club. We had to write a short story and we’re to begin sharing them this Friday. I remembered that you used to be in that club when you went here, and you would probably be the best person to go to,” I state, setting down the new writing journal, this one without coffee all over the pages.

Stump picks up the journal, flips through a few pages, eyes scanning them quickly. “Of course, I’ll give it back in class on Wednesday. Thank you for coming to me with this Ryan. It means a lot,” the professor replies standing up and making his way to the door. I follow as we cross the threshold, smiling slightly because this is probably the best thing to happen to me this week.

“Thanks Mr. Stump. I’ll see you in class then,” I say and turn to make my way to the dining hall for lunch.

“See you then. And call me Patrick by the way, only you though, I don’t really like any of the other students enough to let them know my name,” Patrick declares as if it’s an afterthought. I turn my head and nod, but continue down the hall. Patrick is an interesting professor.

I wanted to walk leisurely to lunch, listen to some of the music on my iPod, but then I realize I’m supposed to meet Jon for lunch and if I’m late again Jon is going to be more than pissed.

I have to walk across campus to make it to the dining hall, and it takes about ten minutes even though the campus isn’t massive, it’s bigger than most other schools, and it’s difficult to navigate through other students on their way to class.

When I reach the bench where Jon and I usually meet, the man in question isn’t waiting there. Jon isn’t anywhere in sight.

I pull out his phone to check for any missed calls or unread messages from Jon, but there’s none. I decide to sit on the bench outside of the dining hall and wait. Or at the very least wait for a reply to the _‘hey where r u’_ text I sent.

The phone vibrates twice after about five minutes of waiting. It’s a message from Jon saying he had to cancel, there was an emergency and he’s ‘sorry he didn’t text earlier’.

I reply that it’s alright – even though it’s not – and put the phone back in my backpack. Grudgingly I decide to eat alone and I’m about to get up to head inside the building when someone comes to stand in front of me. They’re silhouetted by the sun and I can’t manage to see the details of the person’s face. I shield the sun with my hand and tilt my head up to see who the person in question is. It’s Brendon Urie. _Of fucking course._

“Someone cancel your plans?” The football player asks. He’s wearing a dark grey t shirt, black jeans, with the knees ripped, and all black high top converse. His backpack hangs off one shoulder and he’s smiling down at me. He doesn’t really look quite like the football player stereotype, in fact he looks – _stop it right there Ross._  

“Yeah, just Jon and I usually get lunch on Mondays cause we have a long break in-between classes. How’d you know?”

“Well I watched you come here, looking like you were expecting someone. Then you sat down after texting something, and looked a bit pissed when you got a text back. Just figured it was canceled plans I guess,” Brendon answers with a shrug. I admire the fact that a football player somehow managed to put two and two together.

“Huh, well alright. So you’ve been watching me?” I counter with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I narrow my eyes at his response.  Having your own words thrown back at you is unexpected. I stand up, forcing Brendon to step back as well. I realize I’m the taller of the both of us, which makes Brendon kind of short for a football player. So I tell him this. Brendon just shrugs and explains that he was good enough that his height didn’t matter. I snort in response. So maybe he is the typical egotistical jock.  

“Well if you’re not eating lunch with Jon, what are you doing then?” Brendon asks and tilts his head. Kind of like a puppy. I find it only slightly endearing. _Who wouldn’t?_

“Not quite sure at the moment. Come back in an hour and I’ll know”.

“Wanna get lunch then? I don’t have any more classes today and I’m kind of hungry,” Brendon replies. He rocks forwards on his toes and I pause for a moment, pretending to consider the offer. For added dramatic affect I tap my finger on my chin, making agreeable noises.  

“You know what? I’ve thought about it, and I think I’m gonna have to say no”.

“Hmm, well I guess I’ll just have to follow you around until your next class. But I’ll wait outside that. Then I’ll bother you some more,” comes Brendon’s rebuttal. I narrow my eyes.   

“And why is that Urie?” I counter. “Why are you so interested in me?”

Brendon crosses his arms and now it’s his turn to be cryptic. “Because I am Ryan,” he answers, refusing to stick with the last name basis, “All I asked was to go to lunch. But if it’s really that big of a deal to you, I won’t ask again. Well at least today I won’t. I’m very persistent.”

_Fucker._ I throw his hands up in mock defeat. “Okay, fine. You win. Where do you want to grab lunch?”

“Dairy Queen,” Brendon answers with a boyish grin that I find – much to my displeasure – extremely hard to resist.

“Dairy Queen?” I counter.

“Dairy Queen.” The finality in Brendon’s tone leaves no room for arguments.

Within minutes the both of us are on the way to the restaurant in Brendon’s car, which is a new Mustang. I try not to be jealous but I drive a ’99 civic.

The ride is pretty silent except for the music. When we got in the car Brendon tossed me his CD holder – which is loaded and impossible to close with the amount of CDs. I flip through it and find a Beatles CD and even though it’s a ‘Best Of’ CD, I still mentally give him props.

I glance over at Brendon, trying to understand him. Brendon doesn’t seem like the type of person to listen to The Beatles. I voice this and once again Brendon just shrugs. “Don’t judge a book by its cover Ross,” is all he answers with besides the shrug.

There’s only two other people in the Dairy Queen when we get there. An older couple sharing a banana split, Brendon smiles at them fondly when the pair walk in the door.

The girl at the counter looks less than impressed when she sees me, which isn’t unexpected. I’m not very stunning or eye-catch worthy. But when Brendon steps up to the counter beside me she blanches.

“Brendon Urie, oh wow. What brings you here?” She doesn’t even hide the fact that she basically wants in his pants and I suppress the shit eating grin on my face. _Typical._

“Uh hi,” he pauses to read her nametag, “Jane. And well, being as how I’m in a Dairy Queen, I either want food, or ice cream. That’s what brings me here,” Brendon replies a bit deadpan and I smirk.

“Oh, well of course, sorry. What can I get you two?” Jane asks, her face is tinged pink and I try to feel bad for her until she says ‘you two’.

“Uh no – he’s not paying for me. We’re not together. I’m paying for-” I begin to stutter out but Brendon beats me to it, silencing me.

“Yeah I’ll have a double cheeseburger with everything on it, and a brownie blizzard. Ryan – go ahead,” he gestures to me and if it wasn’t illegal I probably would’ve smacked the look off of his face. I roll my eyes to show him just how angry I am – and I’m angry. Truly. And order.

“I’ll have a plain double cheeseburger, a cookie dough blizzard and a water. Thanks,” I say and cross my arms, huffing before wandering off to find a table while Brendon pays.

I manage to find a booth by the windowed wall facing the road and I glare at Brendon the entire time he walks towards the table. “I’m paying you back. You know, Brendon, we’ve only spoken a couple of times in my three years at the college, and it’s been about homework or the syllabus in class,” I pause and eye him warily, “I was serious when I asked what the whole sudden interest in me was”.

Brendon sits down across from me and looks a bit taken aback by my statement. _Good._

“Fine, whatever, pay me back. And what’s wrong with that. I’ll admit I kind of forgot who you were until I saw you outside of that guy’s room. Then I remembered that we’d had a couple gen-ed classes together and we’d spoken a couple of times. You seemed like a cool person, but you never really were interested in speaking to anyone, or at least that’s the impression you gave off. So I figured I’d try to see why. Well that and I guess I just kind of wanted to be your friend. I really don’t see the problem Ross,” Brendon replies and doesn’t try to hide the slight annoyance in his tone.

I think on this for a moment. Maybe I am being slightly unreasonable. I run a hand through my hair, hoping to tame it and let out a small sigh. “Hmm, I didn’t think you’d remember. Anyways there’s no problem with wanting to be my friend, so long as you’re not trying to befriend me so you can have a ‘gay friend’ to parade around to make yourself seem like you’re accepting of everyone rather than being a homophobe. If that’s the case, you can get up and leave right now.” Annoyance flickers in Brendon’s eyes.

Brendon sucks in a breath before launching into his answer, “Okay, well no that’s not why. You’re a cool guy – I think - and one of the few people that doesn’t seem to think I’m a dumb jock-”

I cut him off, “Oh no, I do think you’re a dumb jock, but continue,” I offer, holding my hand out, waving it at Brendon to finish.

“-Anyways, well when we did speak in class, you listened to what I had to say, rather than staring at me while your mind is elsewhere like everyone else did. And I’m not a homophobe Ryan. It doesn’t matter to me who people love. You love who you love, and it’s not a choice you just all of a sudden make. So no. I’m not doing this -” Brendon motions between us, “-because I want to say you’re my ‘gay friend’,” he finishes with finality. I reign in my urge to snort.

I open my mouth to reply but before I’m allowed to speak Jane brings the food. As she leaves I turn back to make eye contact with Brendon, only to find him fully engrossed in his burger. The conversation clearly over. I let out a barely audible huff of annoyance just to let him know that this actually isn’t over.

Although I’d asked for a plain burger I find lettuce, tomato and onion atop the meat. I roll my eyes before placing them on a napkin. Brendon quickly reaches over, grabs them and puts them on his burger without asking. _Disgusting._ I raise my eyebrows but don’t say anything. If Brendon wants to eat the nasty vegetable burger that’s fully his choice.  

The burgers are eaten in minutes, quick enough that the blizzards have barely even melted by the time we dig into them. Not much talking goes on except when Brendon asks if he can have some of my cookie dough. I ponder this for a moment and tell him that, yes he can as long as I can have some of the pieces of brownie. Brendon grins, “Dude that’s gonna taste amazing,” he says before reaching his spoon over and digging out a few pieces of cookie dough. Once he’s supplied himself with enough, he spoons a few pieces of brownie in my blizzard – far less than what he took from mine, but I don’t say anything about it. With all the workouts football players do he probably needs the extra.

Once the blizzards are finished we sit back in the booths. Brendon reaches his arms above his head, stretching them and I notice, for the first time probably, that he has a tattoo on his left forearm. Piano keys with flowers surrounding them. I definitely don’t notice Brendon’s shirt lifting up, following the stretch of his arms. I don’t notice the flat expanse of Brendon’s stomach. _Certainly not._

Brendon catches my staring and he smiles a knowing smile, I try to pretend I don’t notice that he noticed my staring. “Before you ask, yes, I do play the piano and I love it enough to get it tattooed onto me. The flowers are my mom’s favorite flower and I got them this year in memory of her. She passed away in January, so I got them this summer before summer football started,” he says all in a rush. I nod, taking in all the information he just told me. I’m slightly surprised though – the death of a parent isn’t something people bring up in casual conversation to someone who they’ve never spoken to really.  

I don’t want to somehow ruin Brendon sharing his life with me, it seems like it doesn’t happen often, so I do my best to choose my words carefully. “Oh, I’m sorry that happened. Do you mind me asking how?” I ask, albeit quieter than normal.

“Car accident,” Brendon answers quickly. He clears his throat and I figure that despite my not wanting to ruin the moment, the moment is over. “You have any tattoos?” Brendon counters to break the silence that followed his other answer.

Inwardly I groan, knowing this would come up, grudgingly I hold out my wrists, facing upwards and Brendon reads the words aloud to himself, “Mad as a Hatter, Thin as a Dime”.

I nod, not really knowing why. “Tom Waits,” I respond to Brendon’s sort of response. When he glances up at me it looks almost like he’s thinking, then his eyes light up, “The poet right?” I nod in response and he grins, probably giving himself props.

His head tilts, motioning to the tattoos, “So why that quote?” I bite my lip, not really sure if he’s ready to hear the story – if _I’m_ ready to tell it. He’s grabbed ahold of my wrists, turning them to get a better look at the tattoos. “Uh,” I break off and decide that, no, he’s not ready. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had and I don’t want it to be the only one. “Long story that involves a lot of problems, which I’m not sure you’re ready for. But if we do hang out again and become friends then maybe,” I pause because the hopeful puppy dog eyes Brendon is giving me nearly makes me stutter, “I’ll tell you then”.

 “That’s cool. I respect that. So did it hurt pretty badly? Well more so than getting them anywhere else? I heard the wrists hurt more than in other places,” Brendon asks. His index finger traces the twisting letters and I suck in an uneasy breath before pulling my arms back down to clutch my sides, covering my stomach. The back of my neck burns and I hope my face isn’t too red.

“They hurt more than the ones on the backs of my arms. I don’t really remember those though, I got them when I was drunk and I’m honestly not even sure why I went or what they mean. A bunch of old friends of mine and I got slammed and I guess we all decided to get them. Bled a lot. Y’know, alcohol thins the blood” I state, my mind drifting back to waking up to the backs of his arms throbbing. I remember Gabe poking me awake the next morning thinking I was dead. And then taking off the bandages while Gabe yelled angrily in Spanish at how much of a dumbass I was. I cringe.   

Thankfully the conversation about tattoos has drifted to small talk. Things like what classes we have and I mostly sit and listen to Brendon talk about football. For some reason though, I notice he doesn’t seem very happy to talk about football, almost as if it’s Brendon’s natural source for conversation. Something he just falls back on when he doesn’t really know what else to talk about. Sounds scripted. Sounds bored.

My sidekick buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a message from Sisky reminding me I have class today. _Fuck._

“Shit, Brendon we gotta go I have class soon and it’s across campus from the parking lot,” I say hurriedly, stepping out of the booth and maybe standing up a bit too quickly. My head spins slightly.

Brendon nods and we head out of the Dairy Queen and ride to campus without talking. It’s a comfortable silence, the car filled with music from one of Brendon’s Queen CDs. I still marvel at his music collection and I’m considering that being his friend might not be too bad if he knows this many amazing bands.

The other thing that I can’t seem to rid my mind of is Brendon talking about being able to play the piano. I sit in the passenger seat, arm against the window, and face resting against it, almost childlike, wondering if Brendon is actually good at playing or if he just pretends he does. He’s got the hands for it, and the callouses from it were felt earlier when his fingers traced my tattoos. I shiver noticeably and Brendon reaches over to turn the heat up. I laugh at myself, cursing the fact that he’s already getting to me.

When we reach campus Brendon drops me off by the building my next class is in, rather than parking and making me walk all across campus.

I thank him and begin to walk away when Brendon yells to get my attention. I groan slightly and turn on my heel, walking back over to his car. I lean down and place my elbows on the window, glaring in at him. I’m greeted with a million watt grin.  

“Hey, put your number in my phone. When does your class end?” Brendon holds out his phone expectantly, waiting for me to take it.   

“Three, why?”

“I’ll text you fifteen minutes after that and you better answer me,” Brendon replies and winks before taking his phone back. “I’ve got practice at seven, and if you haven’t answered me by then I’ll blow up your phone after practice until you answer. So save yourself the trouble and answer before that”. He winks again – I decide no one can mean to wink that much, so it must be a twitch – and roll my eyes before stepping away from the car. Brendon simply lets out a laugh at one of the thousand eye rolls he’s probably seen.

Brendon drives away and I find myself hiding my smile as I make my way to Humanities, which Sisky just so gratefully reminded me about having a test today.

***

I make it to back to my dorm after class and flop down the bed quite ungracefully, without even taking off my shoes. I sigh and rub my eyes with my palms, hoping that I didn’t just fail that test. It was hard to focus because all I could think about was how tight Brendon’s jeans were. _Fuck. He’s straight Ross. You don’t even know him. You’re not friends. Fuck._

Ignoring my problems I decide that a nap would be best to help me cope with that fact that I did probably fail that test, and it’ll most definitely bring down my average. I roll over in my bed and curl up in the blankets, clenching one of my pillows. And before I know it I’ve fallen asleep.

I’m woken by the insistent vibrating of my phone in my backpack. At first it was just one text, a single buzz, but in mere seconds the messages see ceaseless. It takes a moment for my body to fully wake and realize that I do probably need to answer the messages before the crappy phone freezes.

Releasing a groan half out of annoyance and half out of the amazing feeling of stretching, I reach over and grab the phone. A number I doesn’t recognize is texting him nonsense - one letter texts. I slide the phone open to see that the letters spell out _‘hey ryan, its brendon, I told you id blow up ur phone until you txt me back. so when are you gonna txt me back’_. I laugh and tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling – of course it’s Brendon. I text back quickly before Brendon can add to the message.

_‘hey brendon. srry i fell asleep right after class’_

Brendon texts back almost immediately. _‘rough day after i left?’_

_‘not really, just hadn’t realized how tired i was’_

Again, the response is almost immediate. _‘srry to hear that’._

I reply, _‘how was practice?’_

_‘alright, the usual i guess. i kicked ass. you know, cause im just that_ amazing’ Brendon’s response elicits a quiet chuckle and I message back, _‘sure you are’_.

I set the phone down as I pull my folders out from my backpack. I’m probably loaded down with homework that I seem to have an endless knack for forgetting to do. I’m still not sure how I’ve managed to have a 3.8 GPA through these years of classes.  

My phone vibrates and it reads, _‘well i didn’t get this far by sucking’_. I laugh and reply _‘sucking can get you pretty far if you know the right people’_ , hoping Brendon will understand the joke. He seems to actually be pretty funny and I find it easy to joke around with him.

Apparently he does because he replies _‘wow, did ryan ross just crack a joke?’_

I snort and reply back _‘yes, ryan ross did just crack a joke. but ryan ross also has to go because he didn’t do his homework and he has work tomorrow’._

_‘why is ryan ross speaking in third person? does ryan ross know hes doing this?’_

I smile fondly at my phone and sit up on the bed, crossing my legs. _‘yes ryan ross does know hes doing this. but seriously brendon i gotta go’_

Brendon texts back _‘okay okay. wanna hang out after work?’_

I sigh, while Brendon is comfortable and fun to talk to, I also find it’s very easy to get sucked into conversations with him. I pull his notebook into my lap. _‘sure. i get off at five. ill be back here by five thirty. im dorm number 310’_

Brendon replies back _‘see you then ;))))’_ and I let out a small close mouthed laugh at the winky face. I make sure to save Brendon’s contact information and toss the sidekick to the foot of the bed.  

I’ve got a paper to write, a research project to start on, and twenty pages of some obscure novel to read. I let out an audible groan, although no one can hear my sounds of despair. I decide the paper can wait till tomorrow morning, and the research project until later tomorrow night. So all I’ve got to do is read some of the ridiculous book and hopefully get a full night’s sleep.

When I check the time I notice it’s already ten and internally I cringe at the lack of sleep I’ll have. I’ve yet to shower or get started on the book and I curse myself at getting carried away with talking to Brendon after knowing I shouldn’t have taken such a long nap.

I stand and shed my clothes in the middle of the room - one of the perks of having a private room and head into the bathroom. I turn on the shower, letting it run for a moment because it takes a while for the hot water to actually start working.

I decide to brush my teeth while waiting and then step in the steaming shower. The shower is over just as quick as it had begun, I didn’t want to spend a lot of time in here when the lingering doom of mandatory reading lay ahead. I lay on my bed in a towel, too lazy to put clothes on. After many moments of consideration and deliberation on whether reading the book is worth it, or if I truly do care about getting an education I realize how ridiculous I’m being and snatch the book off the nightstand.

I read through the required twenty pages and actually surpass them. Halfway through the book, there’s a knock on the door. It’s too late for Gabe to come over and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I freeze and set the book down on the nightstand. Standing up as slowly as I can I walk to the door silently.

“Who is it?” I ask. There’s no peephole, so I always have to ask.

“It’s Brendon,” comes the reply. _Brendon? What in the hell?_ I open the door, clutching the towel hard with the other hand.

“Yes?” I ask, making the question as to why he’s here very clear.  

“Can I come in?” Brendon asks, but steps inside anyways.

“No,” I reply though it’s useless now. “What do you want Brendon? I’ve just gotten out of the shower and I’m about to head to bed”.

“Nah, your hair is dry, so I’m guessing you were just lying in your towel,” Brendon pauses to look around. He’s wearing dark grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt and his hair _is_ wet. My guess is that he just got back from practice. I glance back up to see him heading towards my bookshelf. “No roommate,” he says more to himself.

I’m not sure why he says it out loud, or why it matters. I clear my throat and Brendon looks up from where he’s fingering through the books on the shelf. “Brendon. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying about your room number,” he answers, like it’s that simple.

“Okay, well now you know. Leave, I’m about to go to bed,” I reply harshly. _Brendon couldn’t have waited till tomorrow? Not that I mind him being here at the moment._

“Well now that I’m here,” Brendon pauses again, gazing around my room, “Want any help with your work?”

“No Brendon. We have completely different classes this year, I’m working on classes for my major now. I don’t need your help anyways. I’m nearly naked and I’m not gonna ask again, Brendon. Out. Now.” Brendon seems to just now notice that I am in fact naked underneath the towel and his face darkens about three shades more red.

“Okay, okay,” Brendon holds his hands up in a surrender. “I’m leaving. But remember Ryan, I’ll be here at three thirty, sharp”. With that he heads back out the door a small grin on his face replacing the sudden redness.

I sigh audibly into the empty again room and turn off the light next to the bed, casting the room into darkness. I let myself fall back onto the mattress but I find that I’m not able to fall asleep until around two in the morning. My mind seems to want to stick to one thing – well, person. Brendon. The images of his stomach flash through my thoughts and I try my best to remember that we’re friends and he’s straight. I repeat this to myself instead of thinking about how nice it would be to sink my teeth there. But because I’m only human, and only a gay man, it’s quite hard to not have those mental images.

I’m really going to hate myself in the morning when I wake up early to write the paper before work.

***

And hate myself I do. When the alarm on my nightstand goes off I wonder how long I would have to hold my breath until death. My eyes snap open and I’m tempted to throw the alarm across the room.

Instead I get out of bed, slowly, my body sore from the way I slept apparently. The towel left weird marks on my lower body that make it look like I’ve got some skin disease but I ignore that in favor of throwing on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. I run my fingers through my hair rather than actually brushing it. It’s grown out further than I really like and some parts are beginning to form curls rather than being wavy. I try to desperately tamper them down.

Once I’m awake though I get right to the essay. And normally I hate bragging on myself, but about the only thing I’m good at is writing essays. It’s almost like I was born to do them, and I’ve never gotten lower than an A on any that I’ve turned in.

I finish in about an hour, but it’s only eight and work isn’t until eleven. Instead of finding anything productive to do to pass the time I decide to sleep. I set the new time on the alarm I thankfully didn’t throw across the room and fall asleep.  

It feels like five minutes have passed before the alarm goes off again. The two hour nap I got felt like nothing and rather than being more awake I feel drained and exhausted. Naturally I’m up for work and ready to go in about ten minutes, still dreading the fact that I have to work today.

The drive to work has always been monotonous but I have a routine. I drive through the little town and stop at the local bakery, the only bakery, and grab a cinnamon bagel and black coffee. Even though it’s near the time for lunch, I always stick to breakfast because I’m not a huge lunch person.

The bakery is family owned and luckily the entire family loves me; their ‘favorite’ regular. In fact they love me so much they figured setting me up with their daughter. They asked me every day to talk to her and every day I would make up an excuse.  

Until one day I agreed and her first words to me we’re “I’m not straight,” I had just laughed and told her the same. Her name was Elizabeth but she just called herself Z Berg and I called her Z. She would’ve gone to college if her parents had the money, but she said she was alright with sticking to the family business and her own singing career.

We’ve been best friends – besides Gabe and Jon – since the end of my freshman year of college when I’d started working at the library. Her parents always talk about how sweet I am, asking when we’re going to move together and start a ‘happy family’ together. Both of us normally laugh a bit too loudly together and brush the matter off, pretending to be simply ‘free spirited and too young to settle down’. Apparently today isn’t going to be one of those days.

I walk into the bakery to find Z Berg working the front counter. The moment she meets my eyes she begins to say something, her tone sounding urgent and her face desperate. Her mom, Joan, walks out from the kitchen and straight up to me, not allowing Z to speak. She points a finger in my face, “How long have you been lying to me?”

I step back and hold my hands up in surrender, “Mrs. Joan, I would answer you but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to keep any desperate note out of my voice.

Joan doesn’t hold back, “I’m talking about how yesterday I found Elizabeth with a girl!” I raise an eyebrow hoping to appear as if I’ve got no idea what she’s going on about. “Don’t you raise that eyebrow at me Ryan Ross. When were you going to tell me you were both gay and lying about it?” She demands stepping towards me which in turn causes me to take a step back, nearly tripping over my own feet. I’m not sure what to say and for a moment I’m silent.

“I guess we were going to cross that bridge when we came to it,” I end up replying in a defeated tone. I can’t help but to glance at Z, and she attempts a sad half grin, but she mostly just looks defeated before she hangs her head to look down at the counter.

“Well we’re here. We’re crossing the bridge. How could you lie to me Ryan?” Joan asks, albeit this time more calmly.

“I lie for a living Mrs. Joan. Do you know what it’s like having to lie to everyone about who you love? That’s why I lied and if you have a problem with me or Z, that’s just what it’ll be. Your problem. Not ours, not anyone else’s. She’s your daughter and well I’m of no relation to you, but we’re all close here and I don’t want everything to end like this. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to be late to work. I’ll stop by here afterwards and I suppose we can talk more,” I stumble out. I don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, or why I responded so harshly to Joan, but I’m tired of homophobic people. Without waiting for a reply I turn on my heel and walk out without my bagel or coffee, feeling only slightly disappointed. The bagels are really good.  

The four hours spent at work, all I do is shelve books. Hardly anyone uses the public library anymore, though it still doesn’t make me feel any less disheartened by the amount of people coming in. Two people, both elderly people, were the only to check out books today. A couple others dropped off their books through the drive through but that had been all.

Once I clock out I remember saying that I would stop by the bakery and talk to Joan and their family. I mostly just want to make sure they aren’t harping on their daughter because Z doesn’t deserve that. She’s Ryan’s best friend that didn’t come from an unfortunate circumstance and she understands how he feels most of the time.

But when I get to the bakery the lights are off and there’s a handwritten sign that reads ‘Sorry for the inconvenience, but we’ve closed early Today’. I decide to park and send Z a quick text asking if she’s okay, then drive back to the college. It’s nearly 3:45 when I finally enter my dorm building. As I reach the top of the stairs, I look into the hall and see someone sitting in front of my door. I walk down the hall and upon getting closer I realize the mystery person is Brendon.  

“You were fifteen minutes late,” Brendon says from his place on the ground. “I’ve been waiting here since three thirty,” he adds looking up to meet my eyes. I notice that Brendon’s got freckles, they’re hardly there, but he has them. _You spend enough time staring at his face Ross, how could you not notice?_ I swallow thickly and feel the back of my neck heat up.

“Sorry, just had uh,” I pause and try to think of what exactly to say, “problems with something”. I silently curse myself because, ‘ _Wow Ryan, could you be vaguer?’_

“Hmm, well if you could let me in your room you could tell me all about these problems,” comes Brendon’s reply. He says this as he stands, using air quotes when he says ‘problems’.

“Listen Brendon,” I begin, but when Brendon meets his eyes with this look, this ridiculous look, I can’t recall what I was going to say. “Okay, I’ll let you in. But I really don’t want to talk about my problems with you. I’m not the type of person who just talks shit out. We’re just starting to be friends I guess and I’m not about to dump all my problems on you,” I return as a sort of answer. I unlock the door and head inside, knowing Brendon will follow.

I know I should pay attention to Brendon, maybe do something, say something a bit nicer. But I have a feeling that I wouldn’t be able to voice anything without stumbling over the words or my face growing hot, so instead I sit on my bed, toeing off my shoes and roll over to lie down.  

This whole problem with Z and her family really just made me want to sleep for all of eternity. It’s one thing to get outed against my choice, but for them to find Z with another girl – probably Langley, her girlfriend – is a whole other deal. I was more worried for her than anything and I couldn’t shake that. I would gladly give anything for my best friend to be happy, and now she’s probably going to be sent to some religious reform camp. Her family is very ignorant to the ways of the world. They still think it’s the twenties apparently.

When I roll over after much deliberating I notice Brendon slowly walking around the room. Brendon picks through my books, raising his eyebrows at some and frowning at others. He glances at the walls, noticing all the posters. Most of them are bands and out of them half are Beatles posters. My favorite thing in this room is the signed Abbey Road record framed above the bed.

I watch Brendon looking through my things, observing the other man. He’s rather attractive for some ‘stupid jock’. The tight black jeans he’s wearing accentuate his toned legs and very nice ass. I knew the spandex football players wore always made their butts look good, even if they didn’t have one, but that would most definitely not be a problem for Brendon. His features are also all fitting. His arms aren’t too large like body builders, but they’re toned enough to look a bit thin even. Same thing goes for his legs. Brendon looks to be all lean muscle and I find myself a little jealous.

I don’t really like how I look, all long bones and knobby joints. Idealy Brendon has the best body I’ve ever seen and technically I haven’t seen all of it. _Yet. Yet?_

I’m so consumed with why I thought about seeing the rest of Brendon’s body because we’re only friends that I don’t realize what he’s said to me. I blink back into focus, this time looking at Brendon’s face rather than gazing through him. “Sorry, what did you say?” I ask even though Brendon looked like he had been expecting me to say that. He sends me a knowing smirk.

“I was saying that we should get out of here and go see a movie or something. I don’t know, but you look all bothered and we can’t have that. So let’s go do something,” Brendon replies and holds his hand out, probably expecting me to take it and follow him. I don’t.

“I do not look bothered. And I really don’t want to do anything Brendon, I’m just,” I pause to close my eyes and breathe in, “tired. I’m just really tired and I don’t want to get up until I really have to”.

Brendon retracts his hand but only to cross his arms. He stares down at the me with a look that’s undecipherable. “I guess that’s too damn bad. You know I could pick you up and force you to come with me right? I’m a lot stronger than I look”.

“Fuck off okay, I said I’m not going,” I snap but my eyes stay shut. Internally I groans at my petulance. I hate acting like a child, but Brendon seems to bring this out very easily. As if we’re both two stubborn children, determined to get their own way.

“You know this time, I wasn’t asking. I told you we we’re going to hang out after you got off work and I still intend to do that”.

“Brendon you don’t understand, it’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you per say, I would just rather not do anything at all,” I try to argue with him. I feel horrible and I can’t really make up in my mind how I feel about Brendon. The problem being him, here, in my room, looking like he does.  

Brendon’s face softens, “Do you have Netflix or anything like that?” I nod and point to my computer sitting on the nightstand next to the alarm. “Good, now scoot over on your damn twin sized bed,” he adds after grabbing it.

Then he sits down on the bed he scoots me over further. I only give minimal complaint – a few grunting noises in protest before moving myself up against the wall. I think about how easy it would be to push Brendon off the bed and just sleep, but stop because I have to admire how persistent the little football man is.  

“I thought you guys had practice like every day since college sports are super serious,” I say although it sounds more like a question, air quotes around the ‘super serious’ part.

Brendon pauses from opening up the internet on my computer, “Huh?”

“How do you have so much time to just hang out with me?”

“Oh, I have early morning practices from six till nine and my classes start from ten till three. So I did some of my homework until three twenty and then I came here. When I leave here I’ll finish my work. I don’t have a job so I do have a bit more time for things, but we have practices and games on the weekends and on Friday nights, rather than getting to go out and experience the college life, like parties, we have practice from six till ten,” Brendon pauses to peer down at me, and I notice another thing about Brendon, his eyes are the most beautiful brown color. They aren’t dull like mine, but almost like the color of rich soil. My heart does a strange thing and I ignore it, turning to face the screen instead.

 “It’s a pretty busy schedule, but nothing I can’t handle I guess,” Brendon finishes and I nod in agreement although I stopped listening when I had the sudden breakthrough about his eyes.

Brendon props himself up with pillows against my bedrest, and I do the same until we’re both sitting side by side and able to see the screen.

I realize the lights are still on and groan before throwing the nearest thing – a book this time – at the light switch. When it doesn’t turn them off like it always does in the movies I groan even louder and more dramatically which earns a full blown laugh from Brendon.

“It’s almost like you’re wanting me to turn off the lights. Crazy how easy just asking is,” Brendon states with a wide mouthed grin. He’s staring over at me, somehow looking like he’s trying to suppress an even wider grin, if that was possible.

“I didn’t want to ask you to get up after you got comfortable,” I reply.  Brendon pauses for a moment, a strange look on his face before he shrugs indifferently and gets up to turn off the lights.

Once he sits back down, comfortable again, the he begins to scroll through some of the movies on my list and I tell Brendon which ones are my favorites. I go through and give him a rundown on my top ten and then I point to the ones I haven’t seen in a while.

When I point to the ‘Shawshank Redemption’ Brendon tells me he hasn’t seen it before.

“You’re joking right?” I ask disbelieving. When Brendon shakes his head with a grin, I immediately press play. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen this. This is one of the best, most amazing, I can’t believe it’s this good, movies,” I continue, my mind still not wrapping around the fact that someone hasn’t seen this movie. I suppress a laugh and look over at Brendon, who has apparently been looking at me. My heart does the strange thing again.

“Well it better be good Ryan Ross, or we might have to watch another to make up for it,” Brendon jokes as the movie begins. I laugh a ‘ha ha okay sure’ sarcastically – and maybe a bit nervously - before silencing the both of us while the movie starts.

I glance at Brendon periodically throughout the movie, hoping to gauge his reaction. Each time I look over he is staring so intently at the screen that I find it extremely endearing. I find myself forgetting about the earlier problems of today and try to forget about that strange thing that continues to happen to my heart.  

When the movie ends I turn to face Brendon, whose mouth is hanging open.

“He crawled through half a mile of shit,” he states as if his mind has just been blown.

“Yeah he did,” I confirm with a small grin.

“He outsmarted everyone in that prison. Did you see that? Do you realize how patient Andy Dufresne is? All that planning? Holy shit. How have I never seen that before?” Brendon asks grabbing the sides of my face and shaking his head slightly. My face suddenly feels like it’s on fire and I cannot have him feeling the warmth.

I pry Brendon’s hands off and laugh, “Well duh, that’s why it’s one of my favorites. See, that was much better than going out and watching some stupid movie that’s out today.”

“Yeah yeah, you we’re right I was wrong. I guess you have a decent movie taste, and music taste. But I have to know,” Brendon pauses, probably for dramatic effect, “What is your all-time favorite movie?”

“Moulin Rouge,” I answer without hesitation. It’s been his favorite movie since he first saw it as a kid.

“Dude that’s so gay,” he replies with a laugh but then stops immediately and his eyes widen considerably, “Shit, I’m sorry”.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I am huh?” I joke. “Seriously Brendon it’s not a big deal. I’d rather people joke like that than call me names and shit. It’ cool,” I assure. Brendon doesn’t look too convinced but nods his understanding nonetheless.  

“Alrighty then, so what mind blowing movie do you have next?” Brendon asks trying to appear unfazed.

“Please tell me you’ve seen Almost Famous. It’s kind of a girly movie if you will, but it’s amazing and it’s about the 70’s,” I answer still facing him. “How old are you by the way?” I add out of the blue. It wasn’t really out of the blue, I’d been thinking about it all day, hidden in the back of my thoughts.

“No I haven’t seen it, but if you’re picking it, I’ll watch it,” Brendon clicks on the movie to start playing but pauses it when he hears my question. “I’m twenty. My birthday is in April, so I won’t be of age really till then. Really sucks cause the years almost over before I can drink. What about you?”

“Twenty one, well I will be on August 31st. I don’t really plan on drinking though, I’ve got a personal vendetta for the stuff, so no parties for me. Just studying,” I trail off lamely.

“Personal vendetta?” Brendon questions.

“My dad is an alcoholic and a shitty person,” I state. I know it’s a half explanation. Brendon doesn’t have to know the full story. At least not now. We’re still just friends.

Brendon nods as if in an agreement or understanding and plays the movie. We lapse into another silence as the movie begins. This time I relax and enjoy the movie rather than trying to see how Brendon feels. _Or stare at his mouth._

As we near the end of the movie I feel myself drifting off to sleep. Not that the movie or Brendon bother me, I just feel tired – though I always do – and my body begins shifting down slowly to lie flat on the bed. I can feel my eyes fight to stay open but my brain takes ahold of them and forces me to fall asleep.

The next thing I know I’m being shaken awake. My eyes won’t focus but I hear Brendon speaking.

“Hey Ryan,” he whispers between this shake and the next. “We both accidently fell asleep. I’ve got practice in two hours, I have to go. I loved the movie by the way. The 70’s were a good time for music. Goodnight buddy,” Brendon finishes in a whisper. I feel him picking the laptop off my prone form and hear it being set on the nightstand.

As Brendon is crossing the threshold out into the hall he pauses. My eyes have focused just enough to see the younger man clearly. “This was fun Ryan,” Brendon begins and only continues when I hum a questioning noise. “Watching the movies. Thanks for letting me bother you Ross,” he continues and adds a small grin before heading into the hall.

I don’t have time to think anything of anything really, before I’m being dragged back to sleep.

***

I wake up the next morning with the most painful crick in my neck. Turn my head just barely to either side and suddenly it feels like my head is going to fall off. It takes me around thirty minutes to get ready since apparently moving my neck in any way is a no go. I want to be mad at Brendon for not adjusting me in any way so I wouldn’t wake up with my neck like this but it’s not like he owed me anything.

I’m in the middle of tugging my black jeans on when my phone starts lighting up, multiple texts coming in one after each other. Whoever it is honestly needs to lay off the caffeine. Finally when I manage to button up the jeans and pull on a thin grey hoodie, I flop back down in bed reaching over to grab the sidekick. All the messages are from Brendon, asking what classes I have today and if I want to do something with him after practice. I text him back saying that of course we could hang out, but it couldn’t be anything that requires money since I don’t get paid till the end of the week.

Brendon’s reply is almost instant. He tells me that he’s got something planned and I don’t have to worry about the costs. So I tell him again that we should do something that doesn’t cost anything, but apparently he gets off on disregarding anything I say since he’s been keen on not answering back since my recent text.

I’ve only got two classes today since one of my professors has some kind of official business meeting in Europe that he needs to take a whole week off for. I’m only mildly disappointed because professor Stump is my favorite professor, who happens to teach my favorite class and we’ve gotten along pretty well. Or at least judging by the lengthy conversations we’ve had about literature referenced in songs. Turns out professor Stump is quite the musical genius as well as a literature professor. He can play nearly every instrument known to man and usually names off bands no one has ever heard of that turn out to be half decent.

It’s a bit chilly outside today, although it’s to be expected for September in Illinois and I’m glad I threw on the hoodie rather than the t shirt. Unfortunately the walk to class takes longer than expected because there’s repairs being done to one of the buildings I normally pass through, so today I’ve got to walk around the building past all the people who look like they should be having sex with their cousins or something. I thought maybe being this close to Chicago would prevent me from having to deal with people who think two different types of camouflage make an outfit. But it’s 2006, so not everyone is obviously up to date with the times. It would seem they’re stuck in 1876.

“Hey gay boy, those jeans get any tighter they’re gonna cut off all your blood,” the guy with yellow teeth jeers as I walk closer, “Guess fag boys like you don’t got much for the blood to cut off though”.

“Go marry your cousin or something asshole,” I reply without stopping to say anything further. I hear a huff and maybe an attempt at a reply but other than that, nothing is said as I pass by the group of people that should probably all be sent to the middle of Texas.

Other than that I had no problems making it to the Humanities building for my Ethics class – which I happen to despise because of all the talk about God, but it was a required class that I put off for too long. We haven’t had actual assigned seats, but after the first week no one really moved. Everyone seems to dislike this class just as much as I do, except for the really ‘strong believers’. I’ve got kind of a love/hate relationship with them though because while they do make the class extremely entertaining when they attempt to argue with reason, it’s all their talk about how God saved them that makes me dislike them. Because it’s bullshit.

Today, apparently, is going to be one of the hate days. Our professor asks the big question. The one about abortion. _And so it begins._ Hands shoot up, and every person in the class seems to feel the need to shout over the other to explain why they’re so obviously right. I can feel my eyes physically roll into the back of my head as I lower it against the desk, taking myself completely out of the class discussion and instead focusing on what Brendon might want to do today after he gets out of practice.

I hadn’t really had the chance to think about what happened last night. I mean, nothing happened happened, but something was different last night. It was nice. Just being able to relax with someone who doesn’t know every detail of my life, just two friends watching a couple classic movies. Although I can’t really say I was completely focused on the movies. I’d been trying to subtly study Brendon. His face, it’s naturally stunning, and me being a gay man, obviously couldn’t just sit back and not enjoy it.

But it’s not that I want to try anything on Brendon, I’m not even sure if he’s anything except straight, but even if he wasn’t straight, I don’t feel anything for him. Which is odd for me because the moment I saw him I thought it would be trouble, but it turns out he’s just been a pretty cool friend to have. One who doesn’t expect things from me. But now the details of his face replay in my mind kind of in a slow motion picture show, and it’s maybe making me reconsider my just previous thoughts.

The one thing about him that really gets me is the way he’s so genuine about the expressions on his face. Everything he does is genuine. What you see is what you get, and maybe that’s a good thing, I’m not too sure yet. When Brendon smiles, his whole body seems to ‘smile’, all his effort put into that little expression. And he smiles. A lot. Which I only notice because he smiled a lot last night of course.

I feel a buzz in my pocket which stirs me from the next thought, which would’ve been Brendon’s eyes. Who apparently, the man in question, is a psychic, because the message is from him. He tells me that his practice ends at eight tonight, early because the coach apparently forgot about his daughters dance recital and has to be there. He tells me to wear something that’ll keep me warm but again doesn’t respond further when I ask him why. _Cryptic fucker._ I slide my phone closed, but not before checking the time. I realize class is nearly over and I lean back against my chair, stretching my arms up above my head, completely ignoring the discourse flying around the room. Somehow the arguments have shifted to whether veganism or vegetarianism is more important. 

When I glance over to our professor, Dr. Clemmons, his eyes are screaming for someone to save him from this hell. He makes eye contact with me, probably silently pleading for me to make an effort in this class, earn my participation grade, but instead I shrug. It’s not even a full shrug, more of a non-committal shrug, just so he really understands that this class is the last thing on my list of worries.

“Class is dismissed early. Check online for your assignment,” Clemmons announces, and not everyone hears. Those still stuck in the discussion of their eating habits continue to argue while the rest of the class shoulders their way quickly out of the room. I leave as quickly as I can, hoping to avoid getting stuck behind the walkers and talkers. The people that stop in the middle of walking, to talk. To the person they’re standing right next to.

I pull my iPod out of the small pocket of my backpack and put my headphones in, hoping that if I turn the music up loud enough I’ll go deaf before I have to hear another person argue about irrelevant things such as God. Ironically, The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot begins to play and I want to throw the device down the hall of the building. 

Since class was dismissed early I head back to my dorm, knowing I’ve got hours before my next class, Math 130, which also happens to be a required class I put off for too long. It’s at five tonight and it’s only eleven right now. I figure I’ve got time to finish up my essay for History of Literature class and take a nap. Obviously doing the latter first.

The walk back to my dorm is much less eventful, I walk past Jon who is talking to his girlfriend Cassie, they both wave and Jon motions to his phone, indicating that he’ll talk to me later. I flash my phone at him, saying silently that _‘Yes of course Jon, I’ll be waiting. I’ve only got three friends to talk to’._ Though I don’t think I conveyed all that through just the look. Hopefully he’ll understand. Or if he doesn’t I don’t really care either way.

Finally I reach my room all I want it to throw myself onto the bed and never wake up. I heave the door open and cross the threshold but hear a tiny crunch as I step fully into the room. I fling my backpack across the room somewhere before bending down to grab the yellow piece of paper that made the noise. It’s a note from Brendon. The handwriting surprisingly neat.

_“Dear Ryan, wow, this is so formal. Who writes letters anymore? Well this isn’t really a letter, but obviously by now since you’re reading this you know that I dropped by your room. I left my hoodie there last night. Took it off while you were sleeping cause you seemed rlly cold and I was too hot. But now I need it back since it’s cold outside. Just bring it tonight._

_B._

_P.S I never told you where to meet me. So just come to my room in the athlete’s dorm at 8:30. Room 201”_

I smile to myself before realizing what I’m doing. I think his nickname for himself is cute. _Just B. B for ‘but he’s straight Ryan’._ And now I’m frowning. Why am I frowning? What does it matter that he’s straight. I crumble up the letter and throw it on my desk, hoping if it’s out of sight I’ll stop thinking about it.

Toeing off my shoes, I fall onto my mattress and feel myself drift off before I’m fully situated under the covers.

***

Apparently naps in the middle of the day are horrible decisions. Who knew? I knew. I’ve never been good with following through on waking up at the right time for class. Especially when it’s the class I despise the most besides Ethics. So I (un)intentionally slept too long. And now it’s nearing eight and I need to get dressed to go meet up with Brendon. I remember his note, saying he left his hoodie, and I spot it hanging on the back of my chair, grey, same as mine.

Sleepily I slip back into my shoes before grabbing my wallet and keys, hoping I haven’t forgotten anything, and head out the door, jacket in hand.

The walk across campus to the athlete’s dorms is already too long. But being night time now I wish I would’ve left earlier, or taken a more lit path, not the back way I’m used to. Old habits die hard. I guess they really do because for once this walk isn’t to go see Matt.

When I reach the dorms I remember there isn’t an elevator for the athletes and I have to walk up two flights of stairs. I don’t recall signing up for cardio. But instead of complaining I haul my ass up the steps about as fast as a sloth moves from one branch to another. I’ve never really enjoyed that ‘sweet burn’ all the athletes say they enjoy so much. I remind myself though, why I’m here. To hang out with Brendon Urie of all people.

I knock on his door twice, not bothering to text him. He knows I’m coming, plus he’s weird about being on time to places, so I’m sure he’ll know it’s me. Sure enough he opens the door with a wide grin, his hair still damp and t shirt clinging to his chest where he apparently hadn’t dried off completely. I fight off the odd sensation and warmth that tries to spread throughout my body. It’s not wanted and I’m not sure why my body is suddenly deciding that Brendon is. Well. Brendon. Apparently that’s a good enough reason for me – a grown man – to blush.

“Hey”. My voice sounds strange, a little scratchy, but I clear my throat to cover it up. Brendon laughs out a little “Hey,” before he takes in my appearance from head to toe. Then he freezes. His face goes completely red but it is quickly covered up by him stepping back and aside, holding the door open. His hand wipes his mouth and he glances down at the ground like it’s extremely interesting as I cross into the room. “You can sit on the bed or whatever” and this time it’s Brendon’s voice that sounds rough.

“No roommate?” I murmur, echoing his words when he first showed up in my room. Though my question is obviously answered as it’s evident that there in fact, isn’t another person in this room. So I sit on the edge of his bed, looking around his room, seeing what he sees every day. There’s a couple Third Eye Blind posters, some Nirvana stuff, and Foo Fighters. In between the last two bands there’s a signed drumstick and I motion towards it, “Dave Grohl’s?”

“Yeah, got it off eBay – you don’t want to know how much I paid for that. Probably one of the coolest things I own besides one of his guitar picks I got at a Foo Fighters concert,” Brendon responds excitedly, taking a seat on the bed next to me. But he’s not very close. He’s more leaning against the wall towards his pillows. And for some reason his face still seems a bit openly surprised and red.

“Something –” I begin to ask but he cuts me off, “You’re wearing my jacket. Yours is in your hand”.

 “Oh,” and the sudden realization hits. “Oh shit. I wore this all day today. But I mean there isn’t anything on it that would give it away as yours right?” I ask and Brendon’s face contorts into a strange cross between a frown and someone trying not to laugh. He points at where my heart is and I glance down to see ‘Brendon Urie #18’ written in blue cursive.

“Shit. I can take it off,” I don’t even give him the chance to reply before I begin tugging it over my head still attempting to talk. “I mean I don’t think anyone saw anything cause I only went to one class today,” my voice is muffled by the neck of the hoodie getting stuck around my face. All the while Brendon is trying to speak in between my words. “Well – fuck – except for those cousin marrying guys –”

“Cousin marrying guys?” Brendon inserts finally cutting me off. He leans over and begins to help me pull off the jacket. “Camo group,” I respond finally when the jacket is completely off.

Brendon laughs out loud now. “I know who you’re talking about. Hangs outside of the Humanities building every day?” He asks. I nod in response, laughing because he’s laughing. “I wish you would’ve let me interrupt you before you went through all the trouble of taking it off,” my body decides to ignore my brain and heats up my face at the mention of taking off clothes. _It would be fantastic if for just once you could control your fucking self Ross,_ “because I was trying to tell you it’s fine. You could’ve kept wearing it. Just surprised me that’s all.” _Oh._ “Oh,” I murmur, echoing my thoughts.

He lightly knocks my shoulder. “You were just keeping it warm for me then,” comes Brendon’s reply, completely unaware of the fact that I’m struggling to form coherent thoughts. It’s not even like I’m into him, yet, my brain seems to think otherwise. Or else it would actually work. _It’s just a jacket. Not a damn wedding ring. Wedding ring? Really?_ I stand up a bit too quickly, grabbing my jacket and pulling it on just as quickly before letting my mind actually go there. I become friends with Brendon Urie and suddenly I’m reduced to an awkward pre- teen.

Brendon’s eyes raise but other than that he doesn’t address my sudden change in demeanor. He stands and pulls on the apparently still warm jacket then looks over at me grinning wider than I think might be normal for a human being. “So, you ready to go?” He asks tugging on the sleeve of my jacket as he heads towards the door.

“Do I even want to know what exactly we’re doing?” I mumble, walking past him out into the hallway. My hands are cold so I shove them in the pockets of my hoodie as we walk down the hall, shoulders brushing. Brendon is silent for a moment, his hands are in his pockets too. He glances over at me as we reach the top of the stairs, his grin mischievous. “You ever been to the Lincoln Park Zoo when it’s closed?” I shake my head with a breathy laugh as I glance at the ground, “Can’t say that I have Urie”.

He bumps my shoulder with his, “See. I’m full of surprises”. When I glance up to meet his gaze I find that I can’t look away. _Can’t or don’t want to Ross?_

“Full of shit maybe,” I reply, hoping to keep my mind off of the dangerous path it’s heading to. Brendon leans back as we walk down the stairs, his hand covering his heart in mock hurt. “Ryan Ross. I wouldn’t lie. Especially not to you. Friends don’t lie to each other,” he responds and now we’re at the doors leading outside to the parking lot. He grins as we push the doors open and I roll my eyes. I think he grins too much for it to be healthy.

Brendon insists that we take the train into the city because he doesn’t like driving in the city. I completely understand, if somehow a person is able to drive in downtown Chicago, they’re probably gonna be aggressively angry. That’s the only way you can be if you attempt to drive there.

Once we’re in Brendon’s car heading to the train stop he asks me to open the center console and pull out whichever CD I want from his CD holder booklet thing. As I’m flipping through the various artists all I can think is how perfect Brendon’s music taste is. I pull out Third Eye Blind’s second album, _Blue_ , and skip to track eleven. Slow Motion begins to play throughout the car and Brendon glances over at me. “Didn’t take you for a Third Eye Blind kinda guy”. I snort in response and when he glances over again, his eyebrows raised I take a breath, “I saw them in concert probably three or four times for the same tour and I’ve met them. My CDs back in my room are all signed. I’m kind of a huge fan,” I laugh and lean my head back against the seat, but scratch the back of my neck out of embarrassment.

Brendon glances over and knocks me in the shoulder slightly. “Dude there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says, noticing my facial expression. “Honestly if I had more time in my life for things other than football and school and football and school constantly, I would’ve done something music related. Third Eye Blind has been one of my top favorite bands since I was a kid, and they’re a huge influence for whenever I try and write shit. It’s cool man.”

“Do you even like football anymore?” I ask, noticing how tense his voice sounded when he mentioned it. Actually every time Brendon has spoken about football he makes it seem like it’s the last thing he wants to talk about. He frowns at my question and squints his eyes, gazing ahead before resting his elbow in the windowsill to prop his head up. “Why do you ask?” and yeah, he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. But I push on anyways.

“I mean, you got a full ride here. You’re gonna lead our university to it’s fifth national championship, your very second after winning last year. You were the starting quarterback as a freshman. You’re amazing at football. I hardly watch it but I’ve never heard of anyone better. But every time someone talks to you about it you seem to brush it off. I mean I haven’t been watching you or anything, but when they interview you after games you seem,” I trail off because Brendon hasn’t taken his eyes off the road, but his hand has tightened on the wheel. “Fake. You seem fake”.

“You sure know how to compliment a man Ross,” Brendon begins tersely but not with anger. Eventually he sighs in resolve, or out of being tired of the conversation, I’m not sure. “It’s just taken over my life. I don’t date. I don’t have friends outside of football –” he breaks off, looking over to smile at me, “–except you of course. My whole world consists of waking up at four in the morning to do exercises in my room. Doing any homework I was too tired to finish the night before. Getting to practice at six. Practicing until eight. Showering. Going to classes until four. Eating a specifically chosen dietary meal then going to practice from seven to eight, or either going to weights and cardio on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s just tiring and leaves me no time for things like what we’re doing tonight. But everyone tells me, ‘Oh but Brendon, you’re gonna be a first round draft pick one day. You should be glad’. And I am, I just wish they could understand that I have a life outside of football hell”. And I notice now. He does seem tired. Behind every one of his million watt smiles and the constant talking. I notice the bags under his eyes, the way he seems to lean against everything for support, the way he lets out a breath and realizes his posture when he thinks you aren’t looking.

“Brendon, you know you don’t owe those people shit. It’s your own life. If you don’t want to play football anymore, if you want to do something related to music, you can. You have that right –” I begin but I’m interrupted again. “I can’t,” and Brendon says it with such complete and utter finality that I don’t approach the subject again.

The rest of the ride to the train station it completely quiet, only the songs from the album playing quietly. Both of us haven’t looked at each other and I quietly curse myself. _Congrats Ross, even if you guys were getting somewhere, you’ve managed to fuck it up._ We get to the station and manage to catch the train at just the right time so we hardly have to wait. Which I’m glad for because if I would’ve had to stand there in the silence for much longer I might have done something stupid, like asking what was wrong.

But once we board the train I suppose Brendon decides there will be silence no longer. But we don’t talk, no. He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out an iPod, the same kind I have, and hands me an earbud without thinking. We put them in at the same time and he leans back in the seat, pressing shuffle as he does. Brendon’s eyes close and I take a moment to look him over. He’s wearing dark blue jeans that could honestly be tighter than mine – which is saying something – and _his_ jacket finally. He looks effortlessly good, he doesn’t even have to try. I’d hate to say I’m jealous, but I’m jealous.

Then I glance at his face again, I don’t stare, because it’s weird to watch people when they don’t know you’re watching them. So I glance over at him, just to check. _Check for what Ross?_ His features have softened from how tense he was earlier when we might have possible had an argument. I wish I hadn’t caused that. He looks like he could use the sleep, but instead he’s taking me to the zoo – when it’s not even open.

I try not to think too much on it. Because there isn’t anything to think about. We’re friends. And friends can do these sort of things.

***

The train finally pulls into the station and I nudge Brendon, who seems to have fallen asleep. He stirs slightly, with a lazy grin and I feel something pull at my chest. “Ready for the best time of your life Ross?” Brendon asks sleepily as we step off the train.

“How are we even going to get in? It’s closed”. Brendon turns around to face me, walking backwards towards the escalator, “I’ve got my ways,” is his response. That and a shrug and a roll of his eyes. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and sigh, so instead I just sigh. _Progress Ross._

“You realize the zoo is about an hour and a half walk from here, right Urie?” I ask when we reach the escalator and begin to head down. Brendon smirks, “I realize you worry too much Ross. I’m not gonna make us walk nearly two hours”. I huff, “Well than what are we gonna do?”

Brendon doesn’t answer but instead walks ahead, obviously expecting me to follow. I’m considering doing what’s not expected of me – just to make it interesting between us. But I don’t. I follow him because I don’t see how I couldn’t. So I catch up to him and we walk side by side in silence. I don’t really get to come to the city often, so I take my time, walking slowly, admiring the buildings. The sounds of traffic, people talking. Everyday life for those living here, but a wonder to those who don’t. And I think I’d like to live here someday. In a nice apartment in Lakeview, teaching at Columbia. I smile to myself as I walk, _yeah, that would be nice._

Brendon glances over and sees me grinning, “What’s up?” he questions, his face naturally smiling – as if he does it unconsciously. “Was just thinking about how much I like the city. I’ll never get used to it. I want to live here, teach at Columbia, you know the whole deal,” I reply quickly and scratch my neck. Glance down at the ground passing beneath us as we walk, “Around Lakeview. If you’ve heard of it”. I’m not too sure why I added that part. _Stupid._  

“Of course I’ve heard of it. Used to live near there when I was probably one or two. After my dad was caught with another woman, my mom and I moved away I guess – I don’t really remember. But then when she died I went to live with my dad again. But he had moved by then to where we live now, out of the city, quiet and away from everyone I suppose,” he trails off now and seems closed off. It’s not natural on him. “We get along but he’s always been a hardass on me, but at least he acknowledges me. I’ve got two brothers and two sisters but you wouldn’t know it. It’s always ‘Brendon this’ or ‘Brendon that’ and I hate it. I like attention, but not at the expense of others. Especially when the expense is having your own siblings completely ignored”. He sounds defeated but not enough to give up. Almost like he’s just beginning to realize that he doesn’t like the ‘family dynamic’. I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t.

We keep walking in silence until Brendon begins to hum Jumper and I find myself humming along with him absentmindedly. It’s growing a bit chillier and darker by the moment and although I’ve lived in the cold my whole life, I’ve never grown used to it. ‘There’s not enough meat on your bones Ryan’ Z Berg’s mom used to tell me. She would point a finger at me and wave it back in forth before handing me something from the bakery, telling me that if she could she’d give me everything they had. The memory, which normally would bring a smile to my face now forces me to frown. It’s a bit ridiculous how close minded some people can be and how they can let a simple thing such as a person’s sexuality affect them so deeply.

“There’s too many emotions going on between the two of us right now, I think we’d better hop on the bus, don’t you think?” Brendon laughs and motions between us then towards the road where there in fact is a bus coming. I shake my head laughing at how easily he changes his moods and we make our way to the bus stop. I pause when I get there because I don’t have my bus card, it expired years ago. I turn to tell Brendon this but he holds up his hand as if he read my mind and we step on the bus. “Howard, what’s up my man,” Brendon exclaims as he hops on ahead of me, “Mind taking us to Lincoln Park?”

“Sure thing Mr. Urie,” The bus driver – Howard – answers and lets us both walk on without having to pay. Brendon leads us to the back of bus and takes the window seat. I look over at him with an incredulous expression, “Care to explain?” He glances at me with a look between an evil grin and a smirk, “Nope”.

Brendon’s knee bounces rapidly as he stares out the window at the passing buildings. I want to reach down to stop it, save him from wasting energy but I think he’s got plenty to waste. That’s why I don’t. The only reason.

He turns his head back to me – I’ve been studying my hands – “Ryan, what’s your favorite exhibit at the Zoo?” I have to take a moment to think on it because I haven’t been to the Zoo in nearly ten years. The last time I went was with… “Probably the big cats, I really love the tigers especially,” I respond automatically before my brain tries to think about my last visit to the Zoo. My response sounds rehearsed and tense, I hope Brendon doesn’t pick up on it. Apparently he doesn’t because then he begins to talk about how much he wishes there were whale sharks ‘but hey, what can you expect from a free zoo?’.

It’s not too long before we reach Lincoln Park, around ten at night. We hop off the bus but not before Brendon says something to Howard and shakes his hand. I don’t question it. Brendon leads us to the front gates of the Zoo, which are closed, just like I knew they would be. But before I can say anything Brendon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, texts something and slides it easily back in his pants, even though it seems like nothing else could fit in them. They’re extremely tight. Not that I’ve been staring, because friends don’t stare at each other’s asses.

Instead of taking that line of thought any further I pull my hoodie sleeves over my hands, covering them before I bring them up to cross my chest, hoping I don’t shiver too noticeably. But when I look up from where I’d been previously staring – to look at Brendon’s face finally – he’s doing the same as me. We make eye contact and he grins lopsidedly, “Guess I didn’t think the whole ‘being outside’ at night thing. I’m a bit cold”. He laughs and I can see his breath puffing out into the night air. He notices this and begins to blow air out so he can see it. I find myself not able to control myself and begin to do the same as him, both of us laughing too much to properly blow air out.

I finally come back to my senses to ask Brendon why we’re standing here doing this when a night guard walks up to the gate and begins to unlock it. Brendon turns to face me, sending an ‘I told you so’ look at me before crossing the threshold, doing some intricate high five with the guard who smiles politely at me, but there’s something behind it that suggests he isn’t too happy that I’m here. I fight off the urge to sneer at him and I simply continue what I’ve been doing for the past three hours, follow Brendon. The guard thankfully heads in the opposite direction.

I’ve noticed that the only person – other than Gabe – that I’ve been able to fall into a comfortable silence with is Brendon. He seems to know when to talk, and what to talk about. Although it’s a bit unsettling how perfect this guy is. Seriously.

We make it to the first ‘exhibit’ the Zoo has, it’s more for little kids. The farm animals are all inside their little homes but Brendon grabs my jacket sleeve and pulls me into the little barn that houses all the cows, goats and sheep. Which normally is locked, but apparently Brendon’s connections go very far.

Once inside Brendon’s face lights up, seeing all the animals makes his hundred watt smile turn into a million watts. “Ryan, c’mon, come pet them, you look like such a sour puss,” He motions me over towards the cows. By the time I reach them he’s leaned over the ropes holding the animals in and he’s hugging the cow and talking to it. For a moment I think he’s gone crazy but then I catch what he’s saying. “Sorry I haven’t been in a while Bertha, got caught up with life. You’re still my favorite, though,” he breaks off to whisper, “Shh, don’t tell the others”. And only now do I realize what he’s meant this whole time. “You come here a lot, don’t you?” I whisper.

Brendon turns to face me, a bit startled looking, “Nearly every day. It was the only place I remember coming to with my mom before she died. It would just be me and her because my older brother and sister didn’t like the ‘smelly animals’” he breaks off, making an overly dramatic annoyed face, mimicking the words, “but the Zoo was my favorite thing. I love animals, and to get to see all the exotic ones was probably the coolest thing ever to five year old me. So when she died I wanted to go to the place that was just mine and hers. I’d come here whenever I had any problems of any sort. So that was every day, but when college picked up and got more difficult I came less frequently. This is the first time in almost two years I’ve visited here”. And I can’t help myself when I do it. I pull Brendon in for a hug. Maybe it’s because of the way his face dropped, or maybe for my own selfish reasons of wanting to have my arms around him. But he’s warm despite the chill in the air and he smells like coffee and coconuts.

Maybe it’s too soon into our friendship for a hug, but when someone looks like they need to be comforted, a hug can usually help everything, no matter who it’s from.

It’s not like it’s a very long hug, just enough for Brendon to understand my wordless message.  And when we break apart his face seems more relaxed. A small smile that’s barely there. He knocks my shoulder a little before walking off, motioning for me to follow him throughout the Zoo. I go, but not before I push back the warm feeling that spread throughout my body at the sight of that smile. All I can think is that I’m quiet thoroughly fucked.

We cross the bridge that supposedly goes over the alligator habitat – no alligators in sight. And Brendon rambles on about his favorite things he’s seen here. Random facts about the animals that he’s memorized from coming here and running through my mind on repeat is: _You’re fucked Ryan Ross. You’re fucked._

When we get to the big cats habitat, well it’s more of a building where they go at night, Brendon has apparently gotten it unlocked for us as well.  It seems Brendon has grown accustomed to grabbing my jacket sleeve and pulling me around. I don’t think I mind that very much, if at all. So when I feel that now familiar tug on my sleeve, I have to resist the tingling feeling in my gut as he leads me towards the lions. I think I’d like for them to eat me.

“What?” Brendon’s voice breaks me from my thoughts – which I just realized I said out loud, “Why do you want them to eat you?” My face heats up considerably and for a moment I’m not sure what to say.

“Umm,” _Damn, could you sound any more idiotic?_ “It’d be a pretty cool way to go, don’t you think?” _Wow Ross, jokes about death, how very charming._ Brendon laughs out loud, and I mean really laughs, his whole body shakes and he has to cover his mouth with his hand. “That wasn’t the answer I was expecting but it was better than what I thought it would be,” comes Brendon’s reply. He’s leaning against me slightly, I’m guessing to hold up his laughing frame, and I use my body to push against him, scooting him off me before my whole body begins to tingle.

After his laugh attack is over and Brendon’s body returns to its regular amount of bubbling energy, we walk past each of the big cats and I find it hard to stay concentrated on the animals. It is pretty hard considering Brendon stares at them all with such wonder and amazement. He’s stunning, and when he begins to tell me more facts about the animals and what his names are for all of them I find myself tuning out his words just to stare at him, his words lost in space.

But then we get to the tigers and Brendon explains how there’s one with stripes that forms a heart on her back leg – Brendon named her Amor. We reach the space she’s held in and she immediately perks up at the sight of Brendon. _How could anyone not?_ “Ever since I’ve come here, I spent the most of my time in front of her pen, just talking to her, telling her about my life. I’ve seen her grow up,” Brendon breaks off and looks over at me with this strange, almost sappy love look in his eyes, then glances back at Amor’s cage. “I have a lot of fake friends. People that are my friend because I’m the star football player or because they want to fuck me,” he breaks off with a short laugh that isn’t very funny and he sits down cross-legged in front of the tiger’s cage, “but this tiger – who doesn’t even speak, has been the most real friend I’ve had”. I’m not sure what to say because he hangs his head slightly and seems to cave in on himself but then he brightens up quickly and looks over at me, having sat down next to him, “Well except you. You seem like a real friend Ryan Ross”.

It’s too quiet. I think he can hear my heart beating too rapidly. I laugh quietly as if to let him know ‘Yeah right. I’m not that cool’ I’m about as self depreciating as they come. Brendon picks at the hole in the knee of his jeans. “So what do you think? Was this fun?” Brendon’s voice sounds tentative.

“It was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while. You know so much about the animals, it amazed me honestly. I didn’t know one person could know that much about them”. Brendon laughs at my statement. “It was like having my own personal tour guide. Thank you Brendon. I’d like to do this again at some time, if that’s alright with you?” I hope my voice doesn’t sound too hopeful. I was serious about what I just told him, to be able to hang out with someone, no expectations, just to enjoy each other’s company. A break from life. Brendon seems like he needed this too. He also seems like he needs sleep immediately. His eyes are half lidded and his shoulders sag.

“I would like that Ryan Ross,” and it really sounds like he would. “Well, then, we can come here whenever you want. Let me know and I’ll have everything arranged just like this time. Except maybe we’ll have to pay for the bus ride this time,” Brendon laughs, “Can’t get everywhere for free”.

I nod in agreement, a small smile on my face, and stand up. Brendon looks up questioningly and he seems so small in that moment. I hold my hand out to help him up – he takes it, the look still on his face. “Urie, you’re really tired. And If I, of all people, can tell, then you really do need to sleep,” I pause while he processes what I said. “Plus, don’t you have to wake up at four for practice?” I ask, already knowing the answer because he told me earlier.

Brendon sends me a look that’s similar to every petulant child on Earth and seems like he’s going to try and argue with me but I raise my eyebrow and instead he just nods sleepily and for once follows me. The walk back to the front of the Zoo is much slower but Brendon doesn’t hold back with the facts about the animals. He tells me about some of the ones he would visit, and which ones have passed on. He tells me he once tried to name every one of the ducks, but lost count and lacked more original names after about sixty. I laugh at this and he tells me he still remembers a few of the names but the ducks are probably gone by now.

“I think about ten of them were named Daffy. I really loved the Looney Tunes,” Brendon tells me and we both laugh. And I realize how easy this is. Being a friend. Brendon isn’t some dumb jock. He’s a young man who may have seemed like his life was easy because he’s a football star, but his mother died when he was young and his only friends were animals. It’s not as bad as some people, because at least he’s in college and has a house and a car, but material things can only make a person feel so much. Money can’t fill the void of a missing human life. People need compassion and other people, no matter how ‘rich’ they are. I mentally take back anything bad I’ve ever said about the man.

When we make it back to the train station we catch the last train back, it’s nearly one in the morning and Brendon was stumbling onto the train behind me. This time I take the window seat, Brendon gets the aisle. He doesn’t get his iPod out though, instead he lets his head fall back against the seat and closes his eyes.

Then we’re halfway home and Brendon’s head falls against my shoulder, his eyes remain closed, his mouth slightly open, breath coming out shallow, a sign of sleep. The spot on my shoulder feels like it’s on fire. Heat radiates throughout my body from just the touch and I really try to fight it. I really do, but he’s making it extremely difficult for me not to feel warm and fuzzy inside. Everything he does makes it extremely difficult. But I don’t move. I don’t push his head away because he needs the sleep.

Getting back to his car was more difficult than I thought it would be. When Brendon woke up his face went all red and he closed up on himself before we got off the train. I tried to think nothing of his embarrassment. But the walk to the car was silent, as was the ride back to campus.

We reach my dorms and Brendon still hasn’t spoken, just stared ahead, in silence. I didn’t dare play music. But I don’t like this silence. So I don’t get out of the car yet when we pull up to the curb. Instead I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn sideways in the seat, facing Brendon. I cross my arms and look at him until he faces me. He turns the car off, which was more than I was expecting and beats me to speaking, “Sorry”. It’s quiet and he’s facing me but his eyes are looking anywhere but my face.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for Urie,” I reply and uncross my arms. I try and give him a small smile but it probably doesn’t look very convincing. Finally he looks at me. Finally. But he looks different. “I fell asleep on you. It was rude,” he replies. It sounds like that wasn’t what he was meaning to say but I let it slide. His eyes break away from mine, he looks down at the gear shift.

“I didn’t mind. You needed the sleep”. His eyes look back up to mine and his expression makes my stomach nearly flip. So I look away before I say something I might regret. Or worse – do something ridiculous like jump across the center console and kiss him like I’ve wanted to do this whole night. Then the realization hits me. I want to kiss him. Very badly. I need to get out of the car.

My hand reaches back and fumbles around to find the door handle. I pull it and push the door open a bit too hurriedly. “You need to sleep Brendon. You’re too tired. I’ve kept you for too long already,” I rush out as if that was the explanation for my sudden need to leave. Brendon’s face shifts. It was barely there but it almost seemed like a hurt expression crossed his features before it settled on a small lazy half smile. A tilt of his lips. He looks down at his leg, scratches at it, then glances at me. I’m out of the car now, leaning down to see him. “You’re right you know. I am really tired,” Again, he sounds like he means something else. I try not to think about it.  Instead I return his smile with a genuine one.

“Goodnight Brendon. I’ll message you tomorrow. Maybe we can hang out again. I liked this,” I reply. He smiles again, this time a full smile that warms me despite the chill in the air. “I’d like that Ryan,” his voice sounds soft. Tired but soft.

“Goodnight then,” I say back not so eloquently. “You already said that,” Brendon’s voice doesn’t sound a sleepy. Something different hides behind it.

“I um –” I rush out. Brendon almost sounded like he was challenging me. _For what?_ “I know”.

Brendon smiles like he’s won, and he knows it. I still don’t know. “Goodnight Ryan Ross”. I shut the door before I let my body take over and climb itself back into the car. Brendon drives away and I’m left walking back to my dorm, the mantra from earlier today repeating in my head. _You’re fucked Ryan Ross. You’re fucked._

***

My phone buzzes first thing the next morning, before I’m even fully awake. When I look over at the sidekick I notice I’ve got more than just one message – two from Brendon, one from Gabe, one from William, and one from Jon. It’s eight in the morning and somehow everyone except me has the energy to be awake enough to text. I figure if I ignore the messages it’ll be easier to go back to sleep. Class isn’t until noon and it’s my only class of the day.

The moment my eyes close and I feel myself on the brink of sleep there’s a knock on my door. “Go away,” I attempt. My voice sounds groggy and full of sleep. _Really intimidating I’m sure._

“Not until you open the door and tell me why my best friend hasn’t been answering my messages. Unless he forgot about breakfast today with Gabey Babey”.  My eyes crack open when I hear Gabe’s voice. Of course I forgot about breakfast. How can you remember something you were never told. So I tell Gabe this while I’m slowly waking up and attempting to walk to the door.

“Well yeah, I know that, I just wanted to see what you would say. But c’mon Ross, tell me how your date with Brendon went and we can eat as many pancakes as possible while you skip class”. I open the door to the most hopeful expression I’ve ever seen on any person. That’s why I say yes of course. _Wait._ “Gabe how did you know Brendon and I went out last night?”

Gabe looks down at me, he seems to scan my body – probably to see if there are any marks on me – and he frowns. I look down at myself and don’t see a problem, I’m wearing the same thing I was last night, I didn’t want to change my clothes. Was too tired. “He told me. I saw him coming out of the stadium while the team was walking in and we got to talking,” Gabe pauses to give me another strange look and I raise my eyebrow at him. “He really seems to like you. Would not stop talking about you actually. I had to end the conversation or else I would’ve been late to weights,” he stops and takes a deep breath and his face softens a bit, “But it was a straight boy talking”. _There it is._

I nod slowly, “Yeah I know this Gabe. That’s my problem.” I realize I’m leaning on the door still and we’re supposed to get breakfast. Stepping aside I wave my arm in my room, showing that he should come in and sit down. “I’m gonna get dressed. We going to IHOP?” Without waiting for an answer I walk over to my dresser and grab another shirt to change into underneath this hoodie. I pull off the hoodie and the shirt at the same time, it’s nothing Gabe hasn’t seen before, and put on the different shirt. When I pull the hoodie back on I hear Gabe, “Why not change the hoodie?” _It smells like Brendon._ “It’s not dirty, why should I?”

“Dude you slept in it. You wore it last night. It can’t smell good. It’s been through a zoo and back”.

“It smells fine”.

Gabe glances up at me from where he’s lying on my bed, he’s texting someone on his sidekick. “Yeah uh huh, _real fine_ right Ross?” His eyebrows both raise and I throw my dirty shirt at his face.

“Fuck off”. Gabe laughs while he throws the shirt on the ground. When I walk into the bathroom he yells from my room, “You know he told me about how you accidently wore his jacket around school all day yesterday. Already pulling the boyfriends moves huh Ross?”

“I’m ignoring your question and in turn I’ll ask you one,” I pause brushing my teeth to tell him, “How’s it going with William?”

“It’s going. Boy is it going,” Gabe’s voice sounds similar to someone on every kind of drug. When I’m finished with my teeth I stand in the door frame of the bathroom, leaning on the side. “What’s that supposed to mean Saporta?” My tone is suggestive, hoping he’ll explain his cryptic words. Apparently no one ever wants to say what they really mean.

He looks up at me, his eyes big, dreamy-like, “I’m in love Ross. I really am”. I laugh and push off the door frame to go sit next to him on the bed, slipping my shoes on. “Ryan Ross, I have found the one. We’ve been talking non-stop since I’ve gotten his number. It’s just about ridiculous stuff. He’s the funniest guy I know – you included,” I smack his arm hard at the comment, “But I’m serious Ryan, I can see this happening. I thought he was some crazy hot guy but it turns out he’s a regular guy who happens to love music,” Gabe pauses and laughs to himself, “I told him I’d give him a backstage pass then sent a winky face and he told me he would have to take me up on that offer. I’m not sure still if he meant it in a figurative or literal way. I’d let him fuck me if it was figurative though, so it’s not like it really matters”.

I roll my eyes, a fond smile on my face, “Gabe it’s too early in the morning to be talking about fucking you. C’mon let’s go get pancakes and we can discuss that while we’re eating. Make everything a lot more interesting”. The both of us laugh while we walk out of my room and into the hallway.

Gabe drives after I tell him I’ve hardly got gas in my car. I’m reminded that I need to pick up my paycheck from work and I ask Gabe if we can stop by the library after IHOP. He tells me yes, but only if I ask Brendon to hang out with me afterwards. We managed to reach an agreement.

When we get to the IHOP Gabe texts Sisky and tells him to meet us and bring whoever he wants. I kick Gabe underneath the table but he ignores me and continues to talk to Sisky. I can’t really even be mad because I hardly ever get out, and Sisky is usually pretty fun to hang out with. Especially if you get him and Gabe together.

We order and just as the waitress leaves the table, Sisky, Mrotek, Carden and William walk in. Gabe waves them over and somehow we all manage to fit in the tiny booth. Sisky, Mrotek and I are squished on one side and Gabe I’m pretty sure is sitting on William’s lap which is an extremely hilarious sight.

I don’t mind sitting with the other couple, Sisky and Mrotek have been together since the beginning of college and they’re over their public affection phase in their relationship phase. I’m awaiting the day when Gabe and William reach that stage. Carden sits across from me with a mild expression on his face. I mirror his and shrug, the both of us the single people at the table.

“So Ryan, Gabe just told me you went out with Brendon Urie last night?” William – who turns out is the one sitting on Gabe’s lap – asks me. He waggles his eyebrows and laughs but then he suddenly leans his elbows on the table, holding his face all serious-like.

I raise my eyebrow at Gabe, who suddenly seems interested in the roof of this ‘fine dining establishment’, then I turn to face William. “He took me to the Lincoln Park Zoo last night yeah”.  Everyone at the table – with the exception of Gabe – suddenly leans forward, their interest peaked. Carden glances over at William then back at me, “Wait, what time did you guys go? Doesn’t the zoo close at like eight?”

My face warms up and I suddenly can’t meet anyone’s eyes. “Yeah but he didn’t get off practice until eight so he called in some favors and got it opened for just us. It was really nice…” I trail off when I look up to see everyone at the table with the same expression – pursed lips and raised eyebrows. William pulls it off the best. “Honestly you guys, it was nothing, it’s just the zoo. Plus he’s straight,” my voice grows desperate, grasping at a way to explain to them that _really it didn’t mean anything._ But even to myself I know that I don’t sound convincing.

William begins to say something but our food arrives, the others who arrived later order while Gabe and I dig in. I’m hoping they’ll forget about the conversation we were just having. I don’t really manage to eat much, I can’t stop thinking about how I’m gonna ask Brendon to hang out tonight, my face heats up just at the thought and something else tight pulls at my stomach.

We finish out food in record time, even the other guys. Their food got to the table within minutes of their ordering, and the rest of the time we’ve spent here has been the sounds of eating. While the waitress clears off our table she tries to talk to Carden about seeing their band in the university’s paper and William takes over to talk about how they’re gonna play a bunch of local shows soon, all the while Gabe is having a conversation with Mrotek and Sisky. I feel out of place but strangely happy, I gain a new appreciation for the friends I have now and how much better my life has been because of them – even if it’s for things like this, just going and getting breakfast together.

But breakfast is soon over and everyone’s explaining how they have class or other things, something I would’ve had if Gabe hadn’t convinced me to skip with him. Now instead I have to figure out a way to do something with Brendon tonight.

William and Gabe spend about twenty minutes ‘kissing goodbye’ before Wiliam tells me goodbye along with the rest of the band and then we all part ways. Now it’s just me and Gabe sitting inside his car and he looks over at me with an expectant look on his face. I roll my eyes and pull my sidekick out of my back pocket and hand it over to Gabe. He winks and begins typing away. I sit in the passenger seat hoping he doesn’t say anything remotely embarrassing to Brendon. Usually he’ll let me read over the message before he sends it but this time he immediately presses send and tries to scoot away from me as I reach over for my phone. Minutes of tugging later, I have my phone and my foot is pushing Gabe’s shoulder away, my back against the car door.

_B, I think u shd come over 2nite. Last nite was rlly fun but ive gt things I kno that wld be more fun ;)_

“Really Gabriel? I don’t even text like that,” I tell him even though I type a quick _‘sorry, that was Gabe’_ as a follow up message. “Now he’s probably gonna freak and think that I just want to fuck him –” Gabe sends me a pointed look, “– which is not the point Saporta. We’re just now becoming good friends, if I fuck it up now I –” I pause because I don’t want to think about not being friends with Brendon, or anything more than friends. I already care too much about the stupid jock boy.

My phone buzzes before I have the chance to sink further into my thoughts. I open up the message from Brendon.

_R, I think I would like 2 come over tonight ;)_

_Is Gabe the one I talked 2 after practice?_

I let out a sigh of relief, Brendon replies with a winky face of his own, which is questionably gay considering the context. I ignore Gabe’s knowing smirk and resist the urge to punch him.

_‘R’? We getting to nicknames now?_

_Yeah that was him, long, tan and handsome. Spanish accent._

Brendon texts back almost immediately.

_I like Ry better. But nice spongebob reference._

_I’ll b over at ur room at 6 2nite. Night practice was canceled. gtg im in class_

“Ry? Damn, you guys are moving fast. Tonight: nicknames and face sucking. Tomorrow: dick sucking,” Gabe laughs out as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Fuck off Gabe, drive me to my work you asshole,” I try to sound angry but Gabe always finds a way to make me laugh and I can’t get angry at him.

I flip through Gabe’s CD booklet and find an acceptable CD – The Rolling Stone’s Tattoo You and put it in the radio, hoping to just listen to the music rather than have to answer embarrassing questions about Brendon. Thankfully Gabe understands and just hums along with the music as we drive.

When I walk in the library with Gabe my boss waves at the both of us while Gabe walks off down the aisles, his fingers flying over his phone keyboard. _Probably texting William._ I walk up to the counter where my boss, a seventy-something year old man named Edgar, sits with a genuine grin on his face.

“How’ve we been today Edgar?” I ask, sidling up to the counter. I lean my elbow on it, resting against it and meeting the man’s eyes. He laughs, a short sound and shakes his head at me, “What is it with you youngsters these days, always walking around like they’ve got someone to impress,” I open my mouth to disagree with him but he cuts me off before I begin, “You seem different Ryan. More,” he pauses, glancing down at the table, making thinking noises. He motions his hand in a vague gesture, “Bright. You seem happier Ryan Ross. You do have someone to impress. Mind telling me who it is? An old man like me needs some excitement in his life. And we’ve been busy today, had about five people come in to get cards”. Edgar was one of the first people to find out I was gay but he’s never had a problem with it. I’ve never respected a person more than I respect Edgar, and it goes with saying that he’s one of the few people on this planet I truly care for.

“Five people? We haven’t had five people come in in a day for over a month, and even then it was about five people every three months. I wonder what’s happening,” I ramble on hoping Edgar will forget about what he asked. For a moment I think that it’s worked until he raises his eyebrow at me and I relent, “Do you know who Brendon Urie is?”

Edgar’s face twists in confusion and he seems like he’s trying to figure out if he does, in fact, know who Brendon is. Most people in this state do, he’s the best college quarterback in Illinois. “Can’t say that I do Ryan. But he must be a pretty special boy to have you all glowin like you are. But I know you’re not here to talk about all that nonsense,” Edgar waves his hand in the air dismissively, “I’ll grab your check from the back. Tell Gabe he needs to stop moving my books around like he always does unless he wants to start working here for free”. His voice raises at the last part of his statement, loud enough for Gabe to hear – who comes walking out of the nearest aisle and up to me.

Gabe leans on the counter opposite me, mirroring my pose. “Edgar, you know I love you so,” Gabe calls after my boss who in return makes a loud indistinguishable noise that sounds like a matter of four letter words.

Edgar returns with my check and a smile, “There’s a bonus in there for this week. You go have fun with that Brendon boy. Take him out on the town, show him around. Take him to dinner. I think he’d enjoy it. I did that for my late wife on our first date and she told me that was the first moment she knew she’d found the one. Sometimes, Ryan, all people need is to know that mundane things are made special because of them”. He pats me on the shoulder as he hands over the check with a wink. “I’ll see you in two days Ryan. I expect to hear more about this boy”. With that Edgar walks into the back room, probably to get everything ready for close. I can’t stop the feeling that erupts inside my chest.

The whole ride back to the dorms I spend thinking on Edgar’s words and take them to heart.

***

True to his word, Brendon shows up at my dorm a little after six. He knocks and promptly lets himself in before I answer. My voice gets caught in my throat. He’s wearing tight grey pants and a black t shirt that’s tight as well, clinging to him in places where his body is still wet. He seems fresh out of the shower, his hair is still wet. But he’s wearing something new, a pair of black rimmed glasses that somehow make him look even better. I sit up on my bed too fast and begin to speak but I can’t form coherent sentences. _Or any appropriate ones._

“Bren- Brendon, uh,” I scratch the back of my neck and ignore the tight feeling in my lower stomach. “Hey”. _Hey? Really Ross. Hey?_ Brendon grins at me and runs a hand through his hair. “I just got back from practice – well a shower after an early practice but what’s up? What we’re your plans for us tonight?” He asks easily before taking a seat across from me in the office chair I’ve got at my desk. He picks one of his legs up and rests his ankle on his knee and spins back in forth in the chair, awaiting my response.

_Yeah, plans. I’ve got those. Though they involve much less clothing._ I clear my throat and try to clear my mind at the same time. My body has plans of its own, plans to obviously betray me at the moment. I look anywhere but Brendon. It’s difficult. “I uh- I figured we could stay in tonight. I would’ve actually planned something but Gabe was the one to ask if you could come over –” Brendon interrupts me, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “If you didn’t want me to come over, I can just go now. Save you the trouble of telling me to leave”.

I try to recover quickly, “No, that’s not what I mean. I – Of course I wanted you to come over,” my face feels like it’s on fire, “I was actually gonna ask if we could ‘go out on the town’ tomorrow. I just hadn’t thought about tonight.” I make air quotes around the ‘out on the town’ part and try and send a convincing smile his way but I’m sure it just comes out as a grimace. Everything feels too hot and too tight and I need to adjust myself but it’s so difficult to do that without him noticing.

When I finally look back to Brendon he’s got the strangest expression on his face. His demeanor has changed and he seems to be just now taking in my appearance. I didn’t want to be too uncomfortable since I figured we would just stay in, but I didn’t want to take away from the little bit of attractiveness I have going for me. I decided on wearing my black jeans and my Smiths t shirt. But this time I actually fixed my hair and tried to look at least presentable. I’m not sure what Brendon sees when he looks at me, but the way he’s staring is a bit unnerving.

“You wanna take me out on the town tomorrow Ross?” It’s not the question I was expecting, and especially not in the tone I was expecting either. It sounds almost pained coming from the football player.

The atmosphere in the room is confusing and full of too much tension – tension that I’m not sure why it exists, shouldn’t exist between me and a straight guy.

“’Course. I could show you some of my favorite places. I think you would really like the Art Institute. Then we could get something to eat. Just have a nice Saturday, so long as you don’t have practice or anything. Plans with people”. My reply sounds too rushed and I try to cover it up with a shrug like it’s not a big deal. Brendon glances at me with a small shy smile, then down at his fingers, he nods slowly – like he’s agreeing to something he’s thought up in his mind. “Yeah,” he meets my eyes with an intense expression, “Yeah, I’d really like that Ryan”.

I’m not sure how to reply to that. I didn’t think of anything to do tonight. Especially not when something is different. _When did it change?_ “I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t really have a plan for tonight,” I say honestly. It’s like some of the tension disappears when I say that because Brendon laughs loudly and stands up. I glance up at him and he motions towards the bed where I’m sitting. I scoot over so he can sit next to me, his back against the wall. I try not to take note of his smell – or how I’ve noticed that every time we’ve hung out he’s always just showered.

He leans back and kicks his shoes off then glances over at me, his face smiling naturally. “We could watch another movie if you’d like. You’ve got great taste in movies, and it’s not like there’s much else to do”. _I can think of a few things._ “Huh?” I hear Brendon’s voice and it sounds like he’s underwater. Maybe it’s just my mind swimming with all the ideas. Then I realize I’ve spoken my thoughts out loud again. “Oh, nothing,” I mumble out and jump off the bed quickly to grab my laptop that’s on my desk.

When I sit back on the bed I realize Brendon has turned himself so he’s lying on the bed properly, leaving very little space for me next to him.

I set the computer on my lap rather than between us. I need something to cover myself since he’s lying on the blankets. I sneak a glance over at Brendon – he’s messaging someone on his sidekick, a frown on his face. He throws the phone down to the foot of the bed. “Something bothering you?” I ask as I push open the laptop and try and get the movie website to load. All the while I glance at him out of the corner of my eye – I tell myself it’s just because I want to make sure he’s alright. Not because of the fact that there’s a water drop making its way down the side of his face and I suddenly feel the urge to lick it off.

“It’s nothing. Just my dad. He’s trying to talk to me about some kind of training thing these new players are doing, I –” he breaks off to glance up at me, his eyes searching and his tone sounds near desperate, “I don’t really want to talk about him right now”. It sounds like he wanted to say something further on the subject but he’s out of the trance and staring back at the computer screen. I can feel my whole body buzzing at the difficulty it’s going through to keep from touching him. The laptop heats my legs and in turn heats my whole body which is making everything very hard right now.

“So um, we can watch this one movie, it’s called –” I break off, my voice tense. It’s too hot in here. “It’s the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It’s pretty awesome. I mean I’m partial to it because of Orlando Bloom, but for you I guess it’s got Kiera Knightly in it. Whatever you like,” I begin to ramble, mainly because being this close to Brendon makes me f _eel_ too much. “Everyone in it is hot,” I finish and click play before he can say anything. The only response from Brendon that I get is a breathy laugh before the movie starts.

About halfway through the movie I feel Brendon’s knee brush against mine and I’m sure it was accidental, so I leave it at that thought and then continue on with the movie. But a few minutes later his knee brushes my thigh and stays there. The point of connection between us a lit flame. Heat radiates from that point and I find it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on the movie the more he inches his leg over.

It gets to the point where Brendon’s leg is nearly on top of mine. I don’t pause the movie, but I feel my breathing nearly stop. My heart beats loud enough for me to think it’s able to be heard over the movie. “Brendon,” I breathe out. My voice is quiet and I’m not sure I even know what I’m doing. I don’t think Brendon knows what he’s doing. I feel his head turn to face me and I meet his gaze. It’s burning.

“Brendon,” I repeat. He doesn’t break eye contact, and suddenly his expression turns serious. His hand reaches down to pause the movie and my heart begins to pound so much that I think it’ll surely break my ribs.

“I don’t really want to watch a movie Ryan”. I try to swallow but I find it increasingly harder to breathe. Brendon doesn’t want this. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not even gay. So I tell him this. Or at least I manage to voice it somehow, broken and scratchy. “I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing,” he replies roughly and then he’s rolled completely over on top of me. I don’t even have time to process his words before his mouth meets mine roughly. I push back just as hungrily. Running through my mind are a million thoughts about why this is a horrible idea and why I should stop, but I ignore them because I’m doing the thing I want to do too.

Brendon may have said he’s had no time for relationships in the past, or for people, but he kisses like he’s had plenty of practice. I don’t give him time to break the kisses as I flip him over to where I’m lying on top of him, my knee parting his legs so I can lean closer. He shivers, breaking a deep kiss to open his eyes and stare at me. I stare back bewildered. All I can think is that I don’t want this to stop, and judging by the look Brendon is giving me, neither does he.

I lean back down, slowly this time and part his lips with my tongue, slowly licking into his mouth, not so much aggressive like him. His hand reaches between us to grip the hem of my t shirt and pull me closer to him. Normally I would try and stop the tiny gasp that escapes my lips, but I find that with Brendon I don’t care. I kiss him again, deeper this time and his body arches up against mine. I break the kiss to gasp and force him back down. “If you do that again this is gonna go a lot further, and I don’t think you really want that,” I gasp into his mouth, “I don’t think you really want this”.

Brendon shakes his head, our lips brushing in the process. His hand releases the hem of my shirt, only to find its way underneath, sliding across my lower stomach. I bite down on his lower lip and he makes this noise. This wonderful noise that turns my insides into fire. “I want this,” I hear Brendon gasp between kisses that have now turned feverish. I grind my body down to his and get a moan in response. I can feel him beneath me, the both of us hard, the friction too much for me to handle. _It’s obviously been a while Ross._ When I do it again this time its Brendon who bites my lip so hard I taste the metallic tang of blood.

My whole body thrums with energy as I grind down to meet Brendon as he arches his body into another long kiss. The both of us pant into each other’s mouths, trying to catch out breathing back up to speed. I take this as my chance to move further down his body and I begin to kiss at his neck, licking and sucking in just the right spots that have him groaning. I know I shouldn’t in case anyone sees but I leave a trail of marks from the side of Brendon’s neck down to his collarbone, all the while his hands fist my hair, trying to pull me back up to meet his mouth. I finally give in, inching my way back to his mouth, slowly kissing every space between. I bite his chin and open my eyes to grin wickedly. His eyes open, the pupils beyond dilated and he laughs, it’s a short out of breath laugh and he whispers “Fuck,” before gripping the sides of my face and pulling my mouth to his.

I reach down to grip his knee and pull it up next to me and Brendon immediately throws it around my waist. I gasp when his foot presses down and forces me hard against him. His hands find their way to my back – he’s all about pulling me closer than possible – and he digs his blunt nails into my shoulders as he forces his tongue in my mouth. I find that he tastes like coffee and cigarettes, which I find odd, I figured him being an athlete would me he doesn’t smoke. Apparently not. Though it’s not like logical reasoning is the first thing on my mind at the moment.

Then I realize that I _do_ need to be rational about this. Brendon may have said he wanted this, but he doesn’t know that for sure. And I’m not helping him figure that out. I kiss him deeply before pulling back and sitting up off of him. He glances up at me, a wild expression in his eyes. I find it difficult not to continue kissing him. His mouth is red and rough, and his body so pliant. _No._

“Brendon no. I can’t do this – you, can’t do this. You may think you want this but you don’t. You’re not gay. You may think you’re attracted to me, but I know you aren’t,” I pause to take a shaky breath and I feel him shift beneath me, his eyes darting between my eyes and my mouth. His face seems puzzled now that his attention has shifted. “So you’ve had your fun. You’ve made out with a gay guy. And it was amazing but,” I gulp and open my mouth to finish but he reaches his hand up to cover my mouth sloppily. “Shh,” he voices quietly and takes a few deep breaths, trying to get more air back into his lungs.

When I glance back down at Brendon and meet his eyes he’s raised up to his elbows, though I’m still straddling him. His eyes pierce right through me, his expression hard. “That wasn’t just for fun Ryan. It wasn’t something to just check off some imaginary list of things you seem to think I have. I know you’ve seen how I look at you, and I know how you look at me. This is something we both want,” he stops and flops his head back down on the pillow. Brendon runs his hands through his hair and down his face and he laughs quietly. When he looks back at me there’s a smirk on his face, although I guess it’s meant to be more of a grin, there’s still that sarcastic edge to it. “I am attracted to you Ryan. I think that’s quite obvious. You may think I’m not, but you don’t get to tell me how I feel. I may not have ever been with another guy before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t now. Don’t deny this for yourself Ryan,” Brendon finishes and before I can reply he grabs the collar of my shirt to pull me down into a softer and sweeter kiss, him smiling too much for it to even be a proper kiss.

Although there are a million things running through my mind at the moment I brush them aside and just listen to Brendon. I find myself nodding slightly, our lips just gently brushing against each other. “Okay,” I whisper. My eyes open and meet his. He’s grinning that million watt grin. I find it hard not to mirror his expression, “Okay. Yeah. We can do this. I can do this”.

Brendon bounces his hips up a couple times and I gasp, I’m still nearly hard and sitting directly on top of him. I narrow my eyes and he laughs. “I could take care of that if you want?” He asks and I shake my head, “I think that’s enough for you for one night. It’ll go away”. _I hope._ Brendon laughs and I roll off of him, resuming my position next to him, the computer forgotten on the floor.

“You’ve got way too much energy for it to be healthy B”. I feel Brendon’s laugh rather than hear it. “And you’re behaving way too normal for someone who’s never been with a guy and just made out with one. It’s kind of freeing me out. You’re not gonna tell me that this whole thing was a prank right?”

Brendon grows all serious-like and looks over at me. “Do you really think that little of yourself Ryan?” I shrug in response. He rolls his eyes and knocks my shoulder. “Well, for one, that was an okay make-out session, I think we’ll have to keep practicing. And I’m fine with it because I trust you Ryan. You make me feel happy, and that –” Brendon pauses and reaches over to pat my stomach awkwardly, “that made me feel great. I think that much was obvious,” I don’t look down at the bulge in his pants that mirrors mine, “so I don’t see a problem with it. You shouldn’t worry Ryan. I like you. That’s what matters.” And the way Brendon says it, it makes me actually believe him.

“So what now?” I ask because I’m not really sure what else to ask. Brendon turns his head and looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. “We finish the movie of course. Then we sleep. It would seem someone has plans to take me out on the town tomorrow. I’ll need lots of sleep if this guy is gonna have me going places all day,” Brendon responds and turns to grab the laptop, this time setting it between us.

I let out a ‘hmpff’ in response and press play on the movie. This time we make it through the movie without anything further. Once it’s over Brendon sets the laptop on the ground as he gets up to turn off the light to the room.

When he lays down I find it strange. The last time I had someone sleep in the same bed as me after a make-out like that I was with Matt. Though this feels much better I can’t stop the flood of questions in my brain. If this is exactly what I’ve been wanting then why does it feel like it won’t last?

I find it very hard to fall asleep, despite Brendon’s comforting warmth and presence next to me. This time yesterday we were talking to zoo animals and now we’ve crossed a huge line that I’m still not sure should’ve been crossed. But I’m also sure that I wouldn’t take it back. 

***

Thankfully I do remember that Brendon did stay the night and sleep here, or else waking up would’ve been a lot stranger. Brendon is fully pressed against my back and I think whatever gods exist that it’s not the other way around, or Brendon would’ve been rudely awakened.

I don’t go to move away from him, just reach across the tiny bed to grab my phone and check the time. It was still early, around eight in the morning according to the sidekick. I fling it to the foot of the bed and inch myself back into Brendon. His arm that’s circled around my waist tightens its grip and his nose brushes the back of my neck before he makes a contented sounding grunt.

I can’t fall back asleep though, I find myself holding Brendon’s hand in mine, turning it over and studying it. His hands are ridiculously soft for someone who plays sports and I’m jealous instantly. My fingers are long and spindly and creep most people out.

Even though I knew messing with Brendon’s hand would wake him up I sigh when I hear the sounds of movement and him making small moans trying to stretch before sitting in an upright position. My body shivers from the sudden loss of all-encompassing heat and I try not to sit up and attach myself to Brendon. Instead I roll over on my back and look up to see a floppy haired, half-awake Brendon. He grins despite the fact that I think it’s too early to show emotion of any kind, and glances down to meet my eyes. Again I tamper down the warm feeling that blooms in my chest.

“Hey,” Brendon croaks and yet he somehow manages to make it sound amazing. His sleepy voice gets pocketed into the back of my mind, added to the growing list of why Brendon Urie is perfect. Rather than answering I reach up and poke the tip of his nose, a small grin on my face. He catches my hand as it lowering and holds it in the both of his hands, tracing the lines of my palm. “You owe me a day on the town, and a night too,” Brendon voices still a bit sleepy but more awake now.

Without moving my hand from his, I sit up and run my free hand through my hair hoping to make it look a bit amiable. And as much as I do want to get up and take Brendon out, I kind of want to lay here again and possibly finish what we started last night. But Brendon is already tugging on my hand gently, willing me to answer. I roll my eyes and grin slightly, “Yes, yes, I know. I promised, and I don’t break those,” Brendon smiles one of his megawatt smiles and stands up, releasing my hand. When he stretches his arms up above his head he lets out the smallest of groans which is really not helping my situation at all.


End file.
